


The Spark

by sifshadowheart



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Alternate Universe - Supernatural is Natural, Intersexed Characters, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Multi, Polyamory, Slash, Supernatural Elements/Species as Minorities, Trans Issues in an A/B/O world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-26 16:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18721072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sifshadowheart/pseuds/sifshadowheart
Summary: Stiles tried to say no.  In fact he said "no" repeatedly.  Unfortunately for him, one Lydia Martin knew just what buttons to push to get him to comply.Even with something as ridiculous as signing up to be the latest looking-for-love Suitor on a ratings-tanking reality dating show "The Spark."This is an A/U where the supernatural is normal and known as well as a/b/o dynamics with the end-game being a closed polyamorous relationship, lots of slash, and implied universe-wide male pregnancy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tying The Knot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17355182) by [GlibbityGlop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlibbityGlop/pseuds/GlibbityGlop). 



** The Spark **

**A Teen Wolf Story**

**_By Sif Shadowheart_ **

Disclaimer:  Teen Wolf and its associated characters are the property of MTV.

**Warning:  A/U, SLASH, Mpreg, Intersexed Characters, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics**

Author’s Note:  This is an A/U where the supernatural is normal and known as well as a/b/o dynamics.  More will be explained in-fic but this has basically nothing to do with the actual events of Teen Wolf except for characters, some themes, and a few of the settings.

**Chapter One: A Spark of an Idea**

It had to be said that everything – every weird twist and screwy turn – that Stiles’s life had taken in the last six months could be laid at the feet of one Lydia Martin, goddess among mere mortals.

A friend, sometimes Stiles thought one of his only friends outside of Scott and his familiar Dax, Lydia was a Banshee extraordinaire, fashionista without parallel, and in the wake of the implosion of her parents’ marriage (in large part because her dad was a dick who couldn’t handle that his wife turned out to be a Fae-carrier resulting in a Banshee daughter) worked with her mother on the set of the reality TV show _The Spark_ to save money for her post-graduate education that she wanted to do abroad rather than take one of the copious scholarships American universities were lobbing at her Fendi-clad feet.

Lydia also knew exactly what buttons to push on her co-valedictorian from Beacon Hills High School in order to get Stiles do to _exactly_ what she wanted, especially since the only time he’d ever really naysaid her was when he went to university at the prestigious Merlinic Academy at Oxford (affectionately dubbed Magic U) rather than stay in the States and go to Columbia for a mundane education in criminal justice or law.

When it came to his magic, Stiles didn’t even let the inestimable Lydia Martin push him around.

That he then went on to become a magical freelance consultant/troubleshooter instead of continuing on to becoming a magical researcher or theorist drove Lydia right up the wall due to his “wasted potential and genius.”

But, Lydia was one of those people who saw a set of grades and an IQ and got _ideas_.

Ideas that Stiles rejected more often than not because they were expected, traditional, and boring as _fuck_.

Being a professor was an _accepted_ profession for an Omegan spark.

Being the magical equivalent of Sherlock Holmes most definitely _was not_ , which was at least half the reason Stiles did it anyway.

Expectations for the various sexes and genders that populated the world were often entrenched in a thousand years of history and tradition, with some placed on a baby’s shoulders at birth and others coming later after their gender presentation at puberty.

Stiles hadn’t been so lucky as to be the latter over the former, but his parents had been markedly free-thinking and rejected most of the expectations their culture at large would place on an intersexed child.

Physical sex segregated – even in 2019 – people into three camps: male, female, and intersexed; then puberty came and split them up even further into boxes of alpha, beta, and omega.

The six categories based in the confines of bodies and hormones yielded six combinations: Alpha Male, Alpha Intersexed, Beta Male, Beta Female, Omega Female, Omega Intersexed though not every person held to or preferred those labels especially intersexed people who could – and often did – feel drawn to one gender or another to matter what their bodies – and culture – had to say about it.

Stiles was an excellent example.

He was a he.

He’d always _been_ a he.

He could’ve presented at puberty as either Alpha or Omega, the only gender dynamics available – hormonally speaking – for an intersexed person.

If he’d been lucky, it would’ve been as an Alpha and no one would have ever blinked twice or tried to say he was _wrong_ in someway about his sex because Alpha Males made up one of the biggest sections of society after beta males and females who each bounced between nineteen and twenty-two percent of the global population for an estimated forty-ish percent beta dynamic overall.  Alphas in comparison were about thirty five percent with seven out of every ten alpha presentations occurring among males, while omegas averaged around twenty-five percent of the general population with eight out of ten omegan presentations occurring among females.

But Stiles _wasn’t_ lucky.

He was omegan, a combination that traditional dynamic norms said didn’t exist.

But he was a he and he was an omega, and he never let anyone ever forget it even as it became more and more socially accepted for an intersexed alpha to be female or an intersexed omega, like Stiles, to be male.

Once Stiles presented as an intersexed Omega, or Omega Male as he preferred to be called, his dad knew straight away that he had a supernatural inheritance that none of them had ever realized.

Most likely he was some form of magic user – which inevitably turned out to be true – but there was a whole slew of supes that looked and acted and completely “passed” as vanilla, mundane, human until triggered around puberty.

Not all supe species were like shifters who started shifting around toddlerhood, or were born with gills like the Mer.

Which led to a gene panel being run to pinpoint _which_ kind of supe Stiles was and his eventual enrollment at Magic U after high school.

Because Stiles wasn’t _just_ a magic user.

Stiles was a Spark.

And that?

That just toppled a whole ‘nother load of expectations onto his shoulders, as if he wasn’t odd _enough_ with being a male omega, he got to be the literal one-in-a-million magic user, Sparks being the rarest of the rare and considered just one step away from being a species of Fae.

Or maybe vampire or siren, there was a _lot_ of debate but not a lot of evidence regarding _why_ Sparks were different from other magic users and what it was in their gene code that made them – and by extension Stiles – so much more powerful than their brethren.

Most notorious among those differences was the need for grounding their powers.

And the reason that Lydia Martin got her “bright idea” to complicate his life via the TV show she worked on.

…

As the story goes, Lydia’s mother Natalie had gotten a position as a producer on _The Spark_ after moving to Los Angeles post-divorce and Lydia going to university at MIT for theoretical mathematics.

_The Spark_ was one of the guilty-pleasure shows among dozens of other reality TV shows and one of a handful that used falling in love as a premise to drive ratings.

In theory, one person was chosen who was looking to find “the spark” with one of the contestants – that the show called possible love interests – would choose someone who “won” at the end of the season, and they live happily ever after with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids with requisite pet.

In reality, over the course of four seasons – two featuring Alpha males and two Omega females – they hadn’t had a successful mating or marriage come after the end of the season and their ratings had taken a hit as a result against the main benchmark for dating-type reality shows _The Bachelor_.

There were a couple of things all of these types of shows had in common: they were focused on monogamous couples as an end result and tended to be weighted – about ninety percent – towards having contestants be mundane humans.

Not _once_ had any show actually had their “love interest” be supernatural.

Not once had they been anything but the expected and comformative male/female sex and were _usually_ also alpha/omega weighted or all betas, playing into the accepted gender norms.

The way Natalie told the story to Lydia, it was the new executive producer, one Robert “Bobby” Finstock who the network had brought onboard after canning the last one after tanking ratings and a scandal involving one of the contestants screwing around with said-producer, that had the idea to shake things up and take chances since, in his words, _it can’t get any fucking worse after last season._

He wanted drama.

He wanted flash.

He wanted scandal – but not the kind that got people canned.

He wanted _magic_.

He wanted a Spark.

There were a couple of problems, however, with what Bobby wanted from the perspectives of all the producers and show staff who were expected to make it happen.

The biggest of which was that worldwide there were only about eight hundred or so Sparks and most tended to hook up early in life because they needed to ground their magics through mating and marriage, typically to other magic users more often than not.

If Bobby Finstock wanted a Spark _and_ managed to find one, he’d also have to find a couple dozen people willing to be in a polyamorous relationship with said-Spark _and_ more likely than not were supernatural.

Breaking another “rule” of dating shows given how rare it was for decision-makers to okay supes for most types of reality tv unless it was a supe-based show like American Ninja Warrior that showed off the abilities of shifters and vampires and kitsunes every week night at eight.

Finstock would _get_ his scandal for certain if he got his way.

But first they had to find a single Spark who’d be willing to date a series of people at the same time and on national television, a search that several weeks into the endeavor had Natalie Martin bitching to her daughter over a couple bottles of wine and Lydia getting her _idea_.

…

“Not a fucking chance, Lyds.”  Stiles shot her down the moment she stopped dancing around the subject and got to the reason for her out-of-the-blue phone call.

Random calls from Lydia _never_ happened.

She was rigid in her routine and rarely varied it, Sunday afternoons were for talking to Stiles over Skype.

He texted her randomly during the week and sometimes called, but for _her_ to contact _him_ outside of a Sunday afternoon with both of them cozied up on their couches and pints of Ben and Jerry’s in hand?

Never.

Never ever ever.

Which meant she _wanted_ something if she was canceling her Thursday evening mani-pedi slot in order to contact him.

He just hoped she didn’t need him to kill someone for her.

Though at least he knew she didn’t want him to dispose of a body, Lydia knew more than enough about science and forensics to manage that all on her own though if they were a supe _maybe_ she’d need him to do a magical scrub of the area.

But him?

On a _dating show?_

She _must_ be out of her mind.

Los Angeles had finally rotted her brain, he knew she should’ve just taken the spot at Harvard rather than holding out for Oxford but her competitiveness wouldn’t let him outdo her.

He’d gone to Oxford therefore _she_ has to go to Oxford even if their fields couldn’t _be_ more fucking different.

“Then you’re _not_ still having issues with your magic, hm?”  Even over the phone Lydia’s smug tone carried clear as could be.  “And your mentors _aren’t_ pushing for you to bond at least one lover in the next year?”

“One: I told you that in confidence.”  Stiles complained, tugging lightly at the front of his messy brown hair.  “Two: Dr. Evanston is saying at least two now.  Somehow I _doubt_ the housewives of America want to watch a Spark try and pair up with more than a _pair_.”

Lydia sucked in a surprised breath, mind rapidly calculating how to sell Stiles to her mom and then how her mom would in turn play Stiles’s situation to their new executive producer.  Lydia _was not_ going to waste time on another job search when she’s two seasons of _The Spark_ away from the savings she’d need for her living expenses at Oxford.  Her tuition was covered.  The rest of what came along with living abroad…not so much since her father no longer had to pay child support and was busy building a new picture-perfect family that didn’t include a Fae daughter.

“How many do they think?”

“Ultimately?”  Stiles hummed, leaning back in his computer chair.  “It’s almost impossible to say and depends pretty heavily on who I choose.  Different species can channel and ground different amounts of power when bound to a Spark or other magic user.  All humans would be like more than a dozen but if I fell in love with a vampire maybe only the one since my magic would feed them and lower their need for magic via blood.  It’s variable.  Which your network isn’t the most progressive.  They aren’t likely going to be _happy_ with a show that’s supe-heavy without being a supe-produced show let alone the logistics of housing a bunch of supes for the duration of one of these shows.”

“That’s Finstock’s problem.”  Lydia dismissed.  “Mine is helping my mom find a Spark then dressing them for the duration of the TV and interviews.”

“Ah hah!”  Stiles grinned, even as the idea started to take root.  “The real objective is revealed: finally getting to play dress-up with the Stiles.”

“Please don’t talk about yourself in third-person.”  Lydia said in a total deadpan.  “And _anything_ is better than your slogan t-shirts and plaid.  How you function as a consultant with the way you dress is beyond me.”

“Because of the aura and my rep, pretty much.”  Stiles shrugged that off, having heard a _lot_ worse about his clothes from the fashionista over the years of their friendship.  “People don’t care much about how I dress when magic all-but-drips off of me.”  He frowned a second as his Google skills kicked into gear and something one of his other friends had said recently tickled at him.  “Lyds, is Alan Deaton still one of the producers?”

“Yes,” Lydia said a minute later.  “Why do you know that or care?”

Stiles groaned as the feeling of a trap closed around him but at least she hadn’t _planned_ on playing the card he’d just stumbled over.

“Scott just got a job.”

“And?”

“As an assistant to one Alan Deaton.”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

How could he say no _now_?

With the jobs of two friends and one friend’s mom riding on this stupid show his signature was as good as on the contract already.

Though, plus side: it would certainly take the pressure off of needing to find his own candidate pool.

And hopefully be stocked with less self-important druid douchebags eager to get their claws into his power under the guise of “grounding” his magics.

“If your mom can swing it,” he sighed even as she squealed.  “I’ll do it.  For you guys.”  He hurried to say before she could hang up on him, mission accomplished.  “And they _better_ use my pronouns or there will be _hell_ to pay if they try and pull they/them bullshit when I’m a he.”

“Mom will make sure of it.”  Lydia assured him, eyes flashing.  Just let them _try her_ when it came to this.  She’d watched Stiles deal with too much bullshit over his pronouns in small-town Beacon Hills when they were growing up to let it fly now.  “Promise.”

“Okay.  If they agree, then okay.”

“You know you’ll have to do an application and background check and all of that, right?”

Stiles snorted.

Of course he will.

Because what is his life without Lydia talking him into something he most definitely doesn’t want to do and then dumping off paperwork onto him on top of it.

Somehow he wasn’t surprised.

“I already said yes.”  He noted dryly.  “Send me the bullshit and I’ll work on it while you work on your mom and the lovely Natalie works on her boss.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Stiles.”

“Whatever, bitch.”  His tone was nothing short of playful.  “You _so owe me_ for this.”

“I’ll pay you back in making you look _fabulous_ and have all your suitors drooling onto your perfectly-tailored and turned-out self.”

“Deal.”

…

The thing Stiles found out after he’d already _agreed_ – verbal or not, Lydia was going to damn-well hold him to it – was that this “little favor” carried a six-month contractual obligation with it.

Six months.

That was half a year of not being able to work or take contracts for his consulting business.

Lydia was _lucky_ she’d forgotten that little tidbit or else there wouldn’t have been anything in the damn _world_ she could’ve told him that would’ve had him agreeing to be the “Suitor” on the show.

He didn’t need the exposure, the sort of people who needed his type of help found him without it, and while the paycheck was a nice round six-figures, he’d be losing more than that off of lost business and consulting revenue over that six-months.

Though, granted, it was a _worst-case_ six-months and he _could_ be released before that depending on how things go on the show but the least he was looking at was four months.

He had to be in LA two weeks before the show started taping for promo shots and interviews and Lydia forcibly shoving him into a stylist’s chair for a haircut and then to her favorite nail tech for a mani-pedi and so on all so he didn’t “embarrass” her on national TV with bitten fingernails and too-shaggy hair.

Before that all happened they put every facet of his life under a microscope to make sure he was who he said he was and not a secret psycho.

Which was fair enough since he knew they did the same with the potential “love interests” as well.

Though for some reason from what he’d heard there was always one or two “crazy” ones who slipped through the net that Stiles thought were either planted for drama or paid to act that way for ratings.

Thank all the gods however, that Lydia wasn’t his production liaison and just in charge of his wardrobe because some of what Scott’s boss who was Stiles’s official “handler” – though most of that was going to be passed over to Scott, which was _awesome_ – asked regarding his likes/dislikes and personal preferences regarding lovers was pretty damn invasive and shit he never said even to either of his closest friends.

All of which could be summed up with: pansexual with a slight preference for alpha males (damn his biology) and he’d never met a kink he wasn’t willing to at least _try_.

The day before filming was set to start, Stiles _might_ have had a panic attack after they’d moved him into the mother-in-law cottage at the back of the house’s grounds – _the house_ where the contestants would basically be living in a fish-bowl for however-long-it-lasted – that even had an eight-foot privacy fence with a gate requiring a key-card to access.

Might.

Maybe.

Really, it was the best time possible for Lydia to make her appearance with her minions hauling racks and racks of clothes into the big mirrored fitting and prep room that took up half the cottage because if anything was going to make him feel better about the utter bullshit he’d agreed to it was sniping with Lydia over clothes.

And sniping – plus some flat-out refusals – there were right from the get-go when he took a single _look_ at the pure-white suit that she held out to him as he stood on a tailor’s platform with a seamstress standing by to pin part of the wardrobe (some done that day and the rest over the next week) into the smartly-tailored look that was expected out of a dating show’s “Host Suitor” or whatever-the-fuck they called it.

“No.”  Stiles folded his arms over the plain t-shirt and struggled not to shift as several pairs of eyes – Lydia’s, the seamstress’s, and a pair of wardrobe assistants – locked on him in all his t-shirt and boxer-brief glory.  At least his underwear were a new pair in tan rather than something what would have him truly embarrassed.

And thank Lydia for the suggestion or he’d probably be standing there half-naked in the Batman boxers he’s had since high school.

“I am _not_ some unblemished bride looking for Prince Charming.”  He argued, flailing at the white monstrosity that _screamed_ weddings and happily-ever-afters.  “No _way_.”

“Oh, good.”  Lydia’s smile was wicked as she handed off the ridiculous three-piece suit to one of her minions and accepted a lovely set in soft dove grey with a rich red shirt and silver tie that would look stunning on her friend.  And her _actual_ selection for the meet-and-greet event but knew Stiles would feel better if he got to veto the occasional outfit.

For which she had prepared appropriately awful selections to ensure that everything else would pass muster with her occasionally-cantankerous and perpetually-spiteful friend.

“Because you’re wearing this tomorrow night.”

Better for their friendship that Stiles hissed what he thought about her underhandedness under his breath and that she pretended she couldn’t hear it.

Then a third of the outfits were pinned and chalk-marked for alterations and Lydia was handing him back over to Scott in a tidy pair of crisp jeans and a soft red sweater – Stiles foresaw a lot of red in his future based on the things Lydia had said over the years regarding the color and what it did for his coloring – to go sit through this beginning/introduction interview with the co-host and relationship psychologist who did all of the personal interviews/impressions/confessional-type moments that made up the behind-the-scenes filler for the show.

His name was one Dr. Conrad Fenris, ironic considering he had not a drop of supernatural blood in his veins, and had a bit of a reliable older uncle air.

Needless to say, he was a lot less intimidating than the new beautiful and bold host of the show who would go with Stiles and the suitors on all their group dates as well as oversee the selection ceremonies.

Corrine Garcia was an Alpha who identified as female when in Hollywood they were still hard at work trying to sell the intersexed party line which Stiles cheered about when he found out she was hired – it made big news considering that _The Spark_ might be tanking but it was still a semi-popular show on a national network – but she still scared the crap out of him with a bit of a predatory aura and sharp brown eyes.

That she was old enough to be his mother didn’t help things as Lydia thought it might.

And it wasn’t that she was an alpha female that was the problem.

No, Lydia was an alpha female as well and he’d never felt uncomfortable with her.

Stiles had spoken quietly with Deaton regarding the issue and the man worked whatever magic he had at his disposal to make sure that his interactions with Corrine would be limited as much as possible, having her take over some of the hosting duties with the suitors in exchange for Dr. Fenris handling more of the on-screen, and all of the off-screen, stuff with Stiles.

Which brought him to the sitting room they had set up for all of the one-on-one interviews in the house with its creamy wallpaper and deep blue arm chairs and Dr. Fenris asking him a set of questions Stiles was familiar with after having binge-watched more than one season of various dating reality shows to prep.

“So, Stiles.”  Dr. Fenris smiled at him in that genial way that was almost patented to put him at ease.  “Here we are, new season – and a groundbreaking season – of _The Spark_ and you’re our latest suitor.  In your own words, what are you looking forward to the most from this experience?”

Stiles continued to smile, not that he could forget with a production lackey just out of the camera angles holding up a big-ass “SMILE” cue card, and answered off-the-cuff with the knowledge that if the take didn’t work they had all freaking night and tomorrow to get it right.

And hopefully not make him look like a blithering idiot on national tv – and internationally as well once the YouTubers get done making clips and auto-tuning the crap out of it.

“This will be the first season out of any reality dating show that features any kind of supe as the Suitor and for that I couldn’t be more grateful and honored that the producers and executives chose me.”  He tried to come out as _grateful and honored_ without overdoing it or sounding like a kiss-ass, which would still be at the mercy of the editing team but the less he gave them to work with – and Lydia and Natalie and Scott had all made sure he knew just _how_ to ruin a take to keep something from being usable – the better.  “Representation is such a major issue right now that I couldn’t be prouder to be part of what will hopefully spark a lot more shows with supernatural hosts and contestants and guests all across the board.”

Lydia was rolling her eyes where she stood just behind Scott who had on his most-earnest puppy-dog expression.

Really, giving a human with eyes like those the Bite was just asking for puppy jokes.

“What about on a personal level?”  Dr. Fenris prompted after they’d gotten a couple of similar takes of Stiles talking up _The Spark_ and their shot at representation in Hollywood.  “What are your hopes there?”

“Well,” Stiles gave Dr. Fenris his most _thoughtful_ expression with a bit of lowered-lashes for bashfulness added in.  And Lydia used to get frustrated with his abilities to manipulate the shit out of everyone around them.  Including her at times.  If the expression on her face – exasperation mingled with dare-he-say _pride_ – was any sign she was realizing just how _useful_ being able to manipulate others was in the real world.  Even in a setting as unreal as reality tv.  “Personally I’m not that different than any one else, hoping to find the right person or people to live my life with.”

“That’s an interesting point,” Fenris prompted.  “As a Spark you may end up matched with more than one person, isn’t that right?”

“That’s right.”  He did the encouraging smile-and-nod routine.  “How many mates a Spark needs really depends on a lot of factors but it’s rare for us – from everything we know as Sparks are the rarest of magic users so there’s not a lot of research to look at – to end up in less than a triad and not uncommon for Sparks to form large family groupings.”

“You’re a male omega, what sort of mate are you looking for?  What interests you in a partner?  Alphas?”

Stiles laughed, letting a blush crest his cheekbones.

“Some stereotypes _are_ stereotypes for a reason and as much as I pride myself on being pansexual, yes, I have a slight preference for Alphas.  That’s just biology.”  He shrugged.  “But I’ve dated betas and other omegas in the past, male, female, intersexed, I’m interested in people not packaging.”

“What sort of mate are you looking for on the inside then?”  Fenris prompted again, glancing over his shoulder a few takes later to move onto the next question.  “What personality traits are most attractive in a partner?”

A bit of a thoughtful frown and a soft sigh.

When his Dad was watching the season premier later, he emailed Stiles to say that he’d laughed himself silly over that little frown-and-sigh combo, saying it was the same routine he’d been using since he was a toddler when the other person asked a particularly stupid or obvious question.

“I’ve always found intelligence sexy.”  Stiles nibbled on his lower lip, the clip used eventually showing him widening his eyes in a classic “omegan” expression of vulnerability.  “A sense of humor, someone who likes to laugh and have a good time.  A sense of adventure, enjoys travel.”

“Sounds like you’re looking forward to having fun with your future partner.”

“I certainly hope so.”  Stiles grinned.  “If you’re not having fun with each other, what are you doing together in the first place?”

…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the Suitors and First Selections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a list of the characters, with species, preferred sex pronouns, and dynamic see the end note.

** The Spark **

**Chapter Two: Flint and Steel**

“Whatever you do,” Stiles remembered Natalie’s hush-hush conversation with Stiles, Lydia, and Scott.  “Do _not_ mention to _anyone_ that you three are friends.  Those that need to know for the friendship week later in the season are aware but Bobby _really_ wants to play the insider-information twist for the ratings.”

Right about now he wished they _weren’t_ keeping it a secret since he had to act friendly-but-not-overly with his best-bro as Scott hovered at his side while they waited on the big curved drive in front of the Greek-Revival house with its ridiculous towering white columns, trees with draping foliage strung with thousands of twinkling fairy-lights, and crushed-shell walkway.  They’d been standing there for the last ten minutes waiting for the go-ahead from Corrine for the first limo to arrive with the first “love interests” inside.  Scott said she wanted the light from the sunset.  Stiles said that she enjoyed being sadistic and watching him fidget under the ever-increasing pressure.

Somehow he figured they were both right in the end when he saw the first episode for himself – they planned to start airing the season about two months in which would give them, they hoped, an idea of who he was leaning towards to frame the story correctly – since the expression on his face when the limo door opened and _fucking hot like burning_ stepped out in a red-soled Louboutin with the burned-gold lighting doing frankly _obscene_ things to razor-sharp cheekbones and golden hair really _was_ worth a thousand words as his eyes widened with visible appreciation for the tall athletic body draped in Armani with a Montblanc watch wrapped around one strong wrist.

Then _hot like burning_ got closer and Stiles’s magic dropped the dime: hot like burning was an Omega who’d chosen to present his first impression to Stiles as male from the perfectly-coiffed short-cropped hair to his shiny black leather Louboutins.

Guess they really _were_ paying attention when Stiles was up-front about being pan.

Thank all the gods, because if they hadn’t after all the talking-up and sound bites they’ve gotten about him over _inclusion_ and _representation_ he would’ve thrown a bitch fit.

In the privacy of his cottage bedroom which was absent cameras – which was more privacy than Scott and Lydia told him the contestants got which he’d kinda already assumed based on his research binge of past seasons – of course so that said bitch-fit didn’t end up on national tv, but it still would’ve happened and Natalie never would’ve heard the _end_ of it.

 _Hot-like-burning_ reached Stiles, his crystal-blue eyes dragging slowly from Stiles’s own red leather designer shoes that matched his rich-red silk shirt up to take in his own short hair and mole-speckled creamy skin.

Whatever went through _hot-like-burning_ ’s mind at the sight of him Stiles would no doubt hear on national television along with everyone else but whatever it was, it was at least appreciative if the intrigued glint in those flawless eyes – flawless _everything_ more like, he hoped the contestants had a stylist as well or he’d get a complex over his own inability to turn himself out as well as _hot-like-burning_ and no doubt many of the others – was any sign.

What felt like forever and would’ve ratcheted his anxiety and tension up about a thousand degrees if he hadn’t been so damn distracted by eyes and cheekbones and _ahhhh_ was only a few seconds, _hot-like-burning_ reaching out smoothly and offering one – _perfectly manicured, of course_ – hand.

“Hi,” and _ugh_ , the smile.  The smile was lethal and the _voice_ was just overkill.  Add in the buzz of magic off of him when Stiles took his hand, a buzz he liked so far, he knew that Jackson was supe but not what kind off the top of his head other than _not a magic user_.  “I’m Jackson.”

“Hi, Jackson,” Stiles at the time felt like his smile _had_ to come across as dazed but the angle they used for the premier made it more bashful as Jackson-hot-like-burning cupped his hand in his own.  “I’m Stiles, it’s lovely to meet you.”

“It’s lovely to be here.”  Jackson shot back, all but _oozing_ charm as his voice purred over the words.

Oh yeah.

He was _definitely_ a supe, that voice had a natural magic that was nothing like the enchantments and compulsions a magic user with the right training – and no ethics – could pull off.

But it was _something_ all right, and it niggled at Stiles’s memory as he tried to place it.

All he knew for _certain_ was that it wasn’t one of the more common supernatural species or else he would’ve known his species by familiarity as for the most part – though there were exceptions – much like a shifter’s nose could pin-point a supe by scent if they knew it, a magic user could do the same with the natural magics and auras of other supes.

And between college abroad, growing up in a town with a Nemeton, and being a magical troubleshooter, Stiles had met a _lot_ of supes over the last twenty-two years of his life.

“Then I suppose you’re not regretting signing up to live in a fish-bowl for the next however-long-then?”  Stiles teased lightly, testing just a bit to see if Jackson was easy to rile or knock off his game.

Jackson laughed, somehow – if he were a magic-user Stiles would suspect a glamor because _damn_ – coming off as even more attractive as if Stiles wouldn’t be in need of a crotch-hiding bush if not for the dance-belt Lydia had advised him to wear which kept him all tucked up and _discrete_ through if the knowing _look_ in crystal eyes were any sign Jackson knew _exactly_ the sort of effect he had on other people.

“Not regretting it in the _least_ ,” Jackson assured him, giving his hand one last squeeze then stepping back at a prompt from a production assistant hiding just out of the shot.  “If anything, I’m more certain than ever that this is exactly where I want to be.”

Oh, Jackson was _good_ , Stiles giving him a knowing smirk and hint of a head shake at the clear pandering-for-airtime remark.

Still, Stiles couldn’t blame him for being willing to play the game, if anything he appreciated that Jackson didn’t go for an expected line about Stiles’s looks or how he seems sweet or whatever lines they primed the contestants with to get sound bites that would play well to the audience depending on the narrative production and editing decided to push.

At least Stiles wasn’t the only one around willing to manipulate the game afoot to get what he wanted out of it.

They paused, allowing the PA posing as a chauffer for the limo to move back around to the rear door of the limo, the poor schmucks playing door-opener for each contestant having to run back and forth to stay out of the camera angles as much as possible, then the spiffy-dressed PA with snow-white hair – hell, maybe he _was_ a chauffer who moonlighted as a PA and not the other way around – opened the limo door and a _long long leg_ that ended in leopard print stilettoes and what in the episode will shine as blood-red toenails slid out of the car.

She was a bottle-blonde bombshell in a screaming-red dress that matched her toes with a wicked grin that promised naughty delights and moved with a predatory grace that had Stiles making her long before his magic filled him in.

Shifter.

 _Definitely_ a shifter and an Alpha female at that.

Damn.

…

Erica, the female alpha, was followed by a parade of a half-dozen unremarkable faces and names except for one, a Jennifer with brown hair who’d _looked_ sweet but who had magic that had him wanting to take a bath in lava to get it off of him.

How they managed to make him staying as far out of touching distance of her during the whole night look like nerves or a lack of connection he didn’t know but at least it didn’t come off as what it was:

Total and utter repulsion on a magically-intrinsic level.

Stiles didn’t make judgments about the magics that others practiced.  Not even when they became the reason he had a client knocking on his door needing help.  But even so, he couldn’t _help_ not wanting anything to do with someone who was a clear _not if she was the last person on earth._

After Not-Ever-Jennifer came a pleasant enough mocha-skinned goddess with a bright smile named Tara, Stiles noticing a clear pattern of supe-human or supe-supe-human, giving him hope that not only had the producers _listened_ when he talked about being a Spark and what he needed and/or wanted in a partner or partners but that when they’d talked about inclusion they’d met it.

By the time he was halfway through the total number of beginning contestants, eighteen to the original thirty-six that he’d have to cut down to twenty-nine making the largest cut right at the get-go, he was starting to have actual _hope_ instead of just playing the party-line that he might make at least one or two matches out of the options provided for him.

Which was good given the, you know, premise of the show.

As it was because he was a Spark they’d given him a full extra dozen contestants to start weeding through with the knowledge that the show wasn’t going to be rushed as he was likely to choose more than one contestant.

He still had to make big cuts over the next couple of weeks until he got it down to a more-manageable number.

Though in the search of ratings he never ruled out the possibility that they might pull a fast one to get him to do extra cuts or whatever Hollywood shenanigans they got up to when the producers were left unsupervised.

Some others stood out in the parade of faces and names that blurred – both for good reasons and bad.

Allison looked like a Disney Princess with her pastel-pink flowing gown that skimmed her lithe – but strong, her shoulders were _killer_ – body, complete with blushing-smiles and bouncing brunette waves of hair.

Derek pulled off a whole new level of hot-but-brooding with his five-o-clock shadow, piercing greenish-hazel eyes, and the stacked muscles packed into a suit that he expected from an alpha male wolf shifter.

Like he’d said in his interview with Fenris: sometimes stereotypes were stereotypes for a _reason_ and Derek would have panties dropping all over America with his hotter-than-the-surface-of-the-sun self.

Stiles needed to send whoever had done some of the contestant selections a fruit basket in appreciation.

Between Disney-Princess-Allison and Broody-Wolf-Derek were a pair of human and another shifter – not a wolf but Stiles wasn’t quite sure what species other than that – that were older than most of the others who made Stiles’s inner slut want to go full _Spank Me Daddy_ named Chris (steel-blue eyes, sandy blond hair) and Peter (shifter, ice-blues that gave Jackson a run for his money, and a _thick_ neck and shoulders that should be illegal with a _you-know-you-want-to-be-bad_ smirk.)

Kali was an intense vampire who kinda scared him but kinda turned him on.

Ennis was another question mark on the _something_ scale but was the biggest and most muscled contestant by _far_ and _that_ wasn’t an easy feat to manage.

Of the last third of the contestants the ones that stood out the most were a pair of Fae twins and the very last contestant: Deucalion Blackwood the first magic user of the total of four that production had managed to sign on for the season who his magic actively _liked_ the feel of instead of being neutral to or repulsed by.

Deucalion was also blind, which ramped up the inclusiveness of the season to a whole new level, and had an English accent that Stiles was pretty certain could read a phone book and would still make him want to let “call me Duke” spread him out on the nearest flat surface.

Finally all three dozen were there, mingling and having cocktails and measuring each other up, and leaving Stiles feeling like he’d somehow completed a marathon in the middle of a hurricane he was so dazed and exhausted but strangely exhilarated at the same time.

…

Scott hustled him to his personal recovery room – they called it a sitting room but everyone knew what it was really for, come on now – up on the second floor of the house as soon as Deucalion was out of the shot and clear, plying him with a bottle of juice to keep his blood sugar up and a platter of cheese with crackers and apple slices and grapes since they weren’t counting on the mixed group downstairs to allow him much downtime to eat.

Well, the alphas might as part of their _protect-provide_ instincts but it was hard to say in such an artificial atmosphere how instincts would react or how much control of themselves the various contestants would have.

His bro had a stack of headshots with first-names labeling them in big letters on a ring like a flip-chart plus a smaller cheat-sheet that would help Stiles navigate all the names and faces that’d been tossed at him, Scott – and Lydia who’d been waiting – quizzing him while he stuffed his face and downed his juice then another of water, Deaton warning Scott through his earpiece that Stiles had a twenty-minute break to replenish and use the bathroom while they shot the initial interactions and even a few reactions-to-Stiles shots with the contestants downstairs.

Which led to Lydia covering the names on the headshots and playing a word-association game that they used to use all the time in school to help each other memorize facts and figures for tests.

“First word or short phrase that comes to mind.”  Lydia ordered as Scott held up the pictures – all the normal big-smile shots against a bland background – one after the other, Scott supplying the name if Stiles blanked.

Bottle-blonde-bombshell was first.

“Erica, bold.”

Scott flipped to the next.

“Uhh…”  Crap.  He was blanking already.

“Francesca.”

“Right, uh, nice?”

Lydia made a face at that, but honestly she was one of the ones that had made zero impression on him in their little meet and greet compared to some of the others that’d stood out.

Thankfully the next one was easier.

“Danny, dimples.”

Scott snorted and Lydia rolled her eyes but on that went the exercise helping calm and center him with its familiarity more than he’d thought it would when Lydia suggested it, and by the time they’d gone all the way through the three-dozen contenders Stiles had polished off the platter of nibbles, his required drinks, and had enough time to dart to the bathroom for a quick moment alone for personal needs – and his sanity – before girding himself and letting Scott steer him back downstairs and into the metaphorical – or maybe literal, he was still a bit at sea over a couple of the shifters – lion’s den.

…

Once out of Lydia’s reach, Stiles loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt, instantly feeling ten times better even if Scott hissed a warning when Stiles almost shrugged out of his suit jacket.

Loosening up a bit was apparently okay but not ditching pieces of clothing altogether.

Good to know.

They had him exit the house and swing around the back so he could enter from the French doors that led out to the rear patio and garden and were connected to the great room that they used in prior seasons for all of the bigger cocktail parties like the first meet-and-greet episode with its comfortable conversation pit and long bar running against one wall.

Stiles wasn’t surprised in the least to approach the French doors and open them wide – a movement they actually had him practice a dozen times earlier in the day – and find most of the supes waiting on him with their heads or bodies turned fully towards the patio despite it being at the far end of the great room while the most observant of the mundane humans – which looked like Chris, Allison, Tristan and who he _thought_ were Victoria and Kate (maybe, don’t quote him) – had taken their cues from the supes and were watching for what had caught the supes attention.

According to the cheat sheet Scott had shown him and his own magic, there were twenty supes of various species present and sixteen mundane humans.

Which honestly had him wondering what line production had used to attract that many supes when for the most part after years and years of being somewhat-to-outright shunned by Hollywood for reality tv supes didn’t tend to apply anymore for shows like _The Spark_ or _Survivor_ unless the shows were produced by a supe-friendly company or network.

“Stiles!”  With a bright beaming grin and the instincts of a showman, Jackson lifted his champagne flute in salute, the rest copying him in a chorus of “Stiles!  Welcome, Stiles!  To, Stiles!,” and so on.

Stiles laughed, accepting a flute of his own – making him wonder if the supes all had laced-drinks since it wasn’t like alcohol did a whole lot to most of them – from a PA though a quick sniff after he held up the flute in wordless return of the salute as the most aggressive suitors converged on him told him he’d been given ginger ale instead of booze.

It made sense.

From what he could tell, having the suitors get sloshed and pick fights and start drama was one thing but no one wanted a host-suitor who slurred his way through a selection ceremony.

Thereafter passed a couple of hours that he would forever remember as being the only steak during feeding time at the zoo.

The boldest – and most aggressive – contenders tended to orbit him, having no compunction or shame or hesitation to insert themselves into conversation with Stiles and whoever he was directed towards by Scott and the other production assistants – though notably there were a few that the others _did_ know better than to try and interrupt their limited “Stiles-time” with lest they look like total assholes on national tv like Duke or who Stiles would likely always remember as the _Spank me Daddy duo_ of Chris and Peter even though neither man was _actually_ that much older than him but possessed definite dominate auras to go with their alpha male pheromones.

Otherwise, Stiles could be tip-toeing through conversation with say the twins and the next minute Jackson was there with a dazzling smile or making small-talk about dogs with Danny and _bam_ invasion by Kate and Kali.

Isaac’s golden curls and shy blue eyes made an impression, as did a few others while at least ten or so contenders did little but blend together.

Which was good and bad, but he’d rather keep around _bland_ than kinda-scary but not in a hot way or, worst from both his own interactions and watching them with other contestants – particularly Derek for some reason he didn’t quite get, maybe the scuff and scowl was a challenge – _fucking creepy_ like Kate and Jennifer.

Julia was another magic user that made a negative impression thanks to her incompatible aura, which meant that he was cutting two of the magic users right out the gate.

At least all the impressions – good, bad, or otherwise – helped direct him for who to send home because if he’d been asked after the limos all he would’ve known for _sure_ were Jennifer and Julia thanks to the magic incompatibility issue.

So there was that.

…

“Alright,” Deaton, Scott’s boss, corralled Stiles up in the recovery room while the suitors were separated into another room for more sound bites and quick interviews before going into the first selection ceremony that was set up by the grand curving stairway in the center of the house.  “Tell me what you’re thinking?”

“Jennifer, Julia, and Kate are gone.”  Stiles said immediately, using a dry-erase marker on the laminated cheat-sheet to take notes while they touched up his makeup and hair before the ceremony.  “For the others…”  He sighed, pursing his lips.  “Are there anyone that Finstock doesn’t want me to cut yet for one reason or another?”

“The twins, Derek, and Peter.”  Deaton rattled off.  “Fan-service shots for the twins will be great for ratings and having relatives end up competing against each other on a show like this is always good for drama.”

“Relatives?”  Stiles frowned, thinking back to the little bits of information he’d harvested from hours of small talk but not remembering _that_.  And he would’ve, it not being the sort of gossip one overlooked even in a daze like the cocktail party had sent him into.

“Peter Llewelyn is the half-brother of Derek’s mother Talia.”  Deaton reported after double-checking something on his ever-present clipboard.  “From what we can tell they haven’t had contact in years, might not even be aware of the relationship themselves.”

Stiles raised his brows with a whistle.

Yeah, he definitely got the drama-potential _that_ situation promised.

And it wasn’t like he was going to kick out anyone who’d made even a semi-positive impression at this point when there was so much _blah-blah-bland_ to choose from.

“Okay,” he nodded, x-ing out several more pictures until he had the seven chosen for elimination.  “Let’s do this.”

“I’ll have the flip-chart and be standing where the contestants – and cameras – can’t see me.”  Scott promised in a whisper as Stiles was led down to the selection ceremony set.  “In case you blank a name.”

“I can do this.”  Stiles sucked in a breath and held in, then another.  “I’ve got this.  It’s just memorization.  I can do this.”

“Yeah buddy, you totally can.”  Scott beamed, then they had to cut the _familiar_ chatter as Scott led him to his mark because – _shifters_ – and moved to stand on a riser behind the ones the suitors were lined up on at the moment, as they would move over to arrange themselves on the stairs to Stiles’s left after they were selected.

Stiles took in the pure white roses standing tall in a rectangular crystal vase – empty, lest water get everywhere – and stripped of thorns, thinking _new beginnings_ , and faced his suitors.

It was go time.

“You all look amazing tonight,” Stiles told them – honestly because down to the last one, even those he didn’t like in any way, shape, or form looked fabulous – as he was given the prompt by Corrine.

A chorus of thank-yous sounded, then he continued, pausing for a five count as directed as he plucked up the first rose of the season and held it gently between his hands.

It was one of the more important roses he would ever give as – true or not – it tended to imply a certain partiality and make _that_ suitor the “one to beat” at least for a while.

And Stiles being a little shit, he decided to amp up the drama – just because.

“Ethan.”

The bright smile on Ethan’s face was something to see, Stiles almost able to _see_ his ego growing, even as the smile stayed plastic-bright but less genuine as Stiles called out name after name – and not one of them his brother’s.

Until he was down to two roses left and decided he’d been playing with his food long enough.

Kate – her smile turning sour the longer she waited, Jennifer, Julia – who honestly had an understanding look on her face, Francesca, Robert, Frederick, John, Aiden, and Malia remained, only two of whom would be staying and the smiles had gotten wobblier the longer the ceremony had drawn on.

Thoughout the selection when it plays on tv, there would be the sound bites and voice overs and dramatic music but in the _moment_ the tension really was as thick and almost cloying as it seemed in between every rose accepted and brief hug given to the suitors.

“Aiden.”  Stiles had to smile at the over-the-top gasp of relief from the other twin, even if other than _being_ a twin he hadn’t done anything to stand out.  “Will you accept this rose?”

The twins shared fist-bumps and bro-back-slaps as Aiden nearly _bounced_ over to join his twin, then Stiles picked up the last rose and held it for a long moment at the direction of Corrine before sighing and holding it up to:

“Malia.”

Which was nearly drowned out by the _shrieking_ pouring out of Kate, Stiles merely cocking his head and watching her antics unimpressed as she was bodily removed from the room to much whispering, scoffs, and even a heckle or two from the others.

…

They had a requisite champagne toast – Stiles actually _given_ champagne this time – before the suitors were shuffled off to their room assignments and Stiles was escorted to his tidy little cottage to pass the fuck out.

Seven down.

Who-the-fuck-knew how many left to go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Host/Director: Corrine Garcia (Coyote Shifter Alpha Female)  
> Dr. Conrad Fenris features as the co-host and relationship psychologist (Human Beta Male)  
> Executive Producer: Robert “Bobby” Finstock (Human Beta Male)  
> Main Producer: Marin Morrell (Human Beta Female)  
> Main/Overseeing Contestant Producer/Handler: Alan Deaton (Druid Beta Male)  
> Alan’s Assistant/Stiles’s Handler: Scott McCall (Wolf Shifter Beta Male)  
> Producer/Handler: Braedan Yaeger (Human Beta Female)  
> Producer/Handler: Natalie Martin (Human Omega Female)  
> Stiles’s Wardrobe: Lydia Martin (Banshee Alpha Female)  
> Cameraman: Matt Daehler (Human Beta Male)  
> Cameraman: Theo Raekan (Chimera Beta Male)
> 
> Stiles Stilinski  
> Age: 22  
> Omega Male  
> Spark (Magic User)
> 
> Noah Stilinski  
> Age: 48  
> Alpha Male  
> Human
> 
> Suitors: 36 Total; 16 human, 20 supernatural; 14 Alpha; 15 Beta; 6 Omega; 9 Alpha Male, 7 Beta Male, 2 Omega Male, 3 Alpha Female, 8 Beta Female, 3 Omega Female; 2 Alpha Intersexed; 1 Omega Intersexed
> 
> Humans:
> 
> Christopher Argent  
> o Alpha Male  
> o Age: 35
> 
> Allison Silver  
> o Omega Female  
> o Age: 23
> 
> Victoria LaCroix  
> o Beta Female  
> o Age: 32
> 
> Ken Yukimura  
> o Beta Male  
> o Age: 37
> 
> Caitlin James  
> o Beta Female  
> o Age: 25
> 
> Katherine d’Acre (Kate)  
> o Beta Female  
> o Age: 34
> 
> Tristan Yates  
> o Alpha Male  
> o Age: 26
> 
> John Unger  
> o Beta Male  
> o Age: 39
> 
> Delilah Reddick  
> o Beta Female  
> o Age: 24
> 
> Crystal Delancey  
> o Omega Female  
> o Age: 31
> 
> Robert Johnson  
> o Beta Male  
> o Age: 34
> 
> Amber Richardson  
> o Beta Female  
> o Age: 22
> 
> Francesca Smith  
> o Beta Female  
> o Age: 28
> 
> Frederick Charleston  
> o Beta Male  
> o Age: 29
> 
> Tara Graham  
> o Beta Female  
> o Age: 27
> 
> Shapeshifters:
> 
> Peter Llewelyn  
> o Alpha Male  
> o Age: 32  
> o Tiger Shifter
> 
> Derek Hale  
> o Alpha Male  
> o Age: 26  
> o Wolf Shifter
> 
> Erica Reyes  
> o Alpha Female  
> o Age: 30  
> o Jaguar Shifter
> 
> Liam Dunbar  
> o Omega Male  
> o Wild Dog Shifter  
> o Youngest Contestant at 18
> 
> Vernon Boyd  
> o Beta Male  
> o Age: 27  
> o Wolf Shifter
> 
> Malia Tate  
> o Alpha Intersexed  
> o Age: 25  
> o Coyote Shifter
> 
> Magic Users:
> 
> Jennifer Blake  
> o Alpha Female  
> o Age: 37  
> o Witch
> 
> Julia Baccari  
> o Beta Female  
> o Age: 33  
> o Druid
> 
> Deucalion Blackwood  
> o Alpha Male  
> o Age: 36  
> o Warlock
> 
> Mark Constantine  
> o Beta Male  
> o Age: 40  
> o Enchanter
> 
> Kitsune:
> 
> Noshiko Yoshida  
> o Alpha Intersexed  
> o Age: 45  
> o Celestial Kitsune
> 
> Kira Suzuki  
> o Omega Female  
> o Age: 19  
> o Thunder Kitsune
> 
> Fae:
> 
> Isaac Lahey  
> o Omega Intersexed  
> o Age: 20  
> o Court: Seelie; Golden Wood Elf
> 
> Aiden Carver  
> o Beta Male  
> o Age: 24  
> o Court: Unseelie; Shadow Fae
> 
> Ethan Carver  
> o Alpha Male  
> o Age: 24  
> o Court: Seelie; Light Fae
> 
> Siren:
> 
> Jackson Whittemore  
> o Omega Male  
> o Age: 23
> 
> Mer:
> 
> Danny Mahealani  
> o Alpha Male  
> o Age: 22
> 
> Vampire:
> 
> Kali Steele  
> o Alpha Female  
> o Age: 32
> 
> Other Supes:
> 
> Ennis Black  
> o Alpha Male  
> o Age: 34  
> o Minotaur
> 
> Jordan Parrish  
> o Alpha Male  
> o Age: 28  
> o Hellhound


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Impressions - both Stiles and some of his Suitors - and the first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the character cheat sheet from the end note in Chapter Two. I realized that I didn’t have any of my intersexed characters actually identifying as intersexed which was an issue, and had made all of my Fae (group) be Fae (species) so now these three characters are updated:
> 
> Noshiko – Alpha Intersexed instead of Alpha Female
> 
> Malia – Alpha Intersexed instead of Alpha Female
> 
> Isaac – Omega Intersexed instead of Omega Male & Golden Wood Elf instead of Light Fae.
> 
> I hope that’s not confusing for anyone since I didn’t specify in the fic itself the genders or anything it was just part of the cheat-sheet.  
> That said: enjoy!

** The Spark **

**Chapter Three: First Impressions and First One-on-One**

“You gave Malia the last rose and immediately Kate is in an uproar.”  Dr. Fenris circled around to what Stiles was dead-certain was going to end up either in the episode or as a voiceover.  “What were you thinking in that moment?”

“That I definitely hadn’t made a mistake.”  Stiles laughed, shaking his head as if embarrassed for Kate.  “In a room full of people, only two made me really uncomfortable on little to no acquaintance.  One was Jennifer because our magics are drastically incompatible.  The other was Kate.”

“Why is that, do you think?”  Fenris prompted, as if sensing something juicy.

“It was in her aura and her, frankly, invasive behavior and topics of conversation.”  Stiles supplied after a “thoughtful” moment.  “Not just towards myself either, there were plenty of suitors during the cocktail party that were bold and assertive about spending time with me, that wasn’t really the issue.  But with the PA’s and the staff and the other suitors, Kate showed a pattern of being almost what I would consider predatory particularly with younger males and intersexed omegas.”

“Such as yourself and…?”  Conrad helpfully fished for the soundbite that they would find footage to back up during the episode.

“Definitely Isaac,” Stiles said immediately.  “He comes off as kinda shy and anytime I tried to talk to him Kate would show up and make really suggestive remarks that he clearly wasn’t comfortable with but she’d keep doing it anyway.  And her body language was,” his mouth turned down in clear distaste.  “Kinda forcefully suggestive, I guess.”

“How so?”

“I don’t want to say she gave off bad-touch vibes but…yeah.  No matter how flattering people say having a beautiful woman hit on you _should be_ in reality there are times where you can get the sense that the other person wouldn’t respect your boundaries and I don’t need someone like that hanging around.  Her outburst only confirmed what I already knew from my own observations of the suitors.  She doesn’t like being told no.  I hope for the sake of others who might meet her on the outside that it doesn’t extend to all areas of her life.”

Fenris sighed, eyeing him reproachfully for the blunt answer.  “You know we can’t use half of that or you might be liable for slander.”

“Then don’t.”  Stiles shrugged, arching an unimpressed brow.  “Leave it as if I didn’t find her appealing or compatible or whatever or I didn’t like her being pushy towards Isaac and Liam and leave out _Kate gives me creeper vibes_.  Problem solved.”

…

In other areas of the house, similar conversations were going on – both with Corrine for the official “confessional” clips and without for the “candid” footage.

Monopolizing the hot tub were several beauties in scant swim-shorts or bikinis – unsurprisingly the content of which were a few of the contestants Stiles had pegged as variations of bold or confident, such as Erica, Jackson, Amber, and the twins.

Both Danny and Kali would normally be with them but the former was swimming laps in the saltwater pool – a change from chlorine for that season for both the hot tub and pool – and the latter being a vampire was in the UV-tempered areas of the house instead of out under the raw California sun.

Peter and Chris were also doing laps while waiting for their turn in Corrine’s interview chair, some contestants were still sleeping off the previous night’s excess of champagne, others were in the gym or lounging in the conversation pit in the great room, clutching blood mary’s in the kitchen, and so on.

The topic of conversation, naturally, taking on only a couple of variations:

Stiles.

The competition and their competitors.

Those already sent home and the guesses for the next round of cuts – which got quite catty and made for excellent television once alcohol and/or hangovers got involved.

And Stiles.

“You could definitely tell he wasn’t impressed with Kate’s behavior.”  Kali told Noshiko, the two being the oldest – technically intersexed but Kali identified as female – alphas on the show having naturally drifted towards each other despite being a vampire and a kitsune respectively.  Both were confident and successful in their careers and had a lot more in common than they did with the younger contestants.

“I think it speaks well of him that he noticed it to begin with considering how much else was going on last night.”  Noshiko agreed, pursing their lips and crossing their legs sitting back against the chaise in the “sun” room with its tempered glass.

Another change required to the house for that season though other contestants in that season and later years would benefit from the UV blocking properties of the glass.

…

Elsewhere, Amber and Erica teased a blushing Ethan over being chosen first and gossiped about Stiles in general.

“I could just eat him up.”  Erica smiled wickedly, blood-red mouth that matched her tiny string bikini curving over sharp incisors.

“Or play connect-the-dots with his beauty marks.”  Jackson met her tease with his own suggestive smirk.  “I wonder if they go all the way down…”

“Only one way to find out.”  Amber added with a toss of her fiery-red mane of curls, the others cheering and clinking glasses at the remark.

…

“So, you’re one of my nephews?”  Peter arched a brow at the scruffy wolf who only paused a moment at his entrance – towel-wrapped hips and all – into the gym before continuing with circuits of pull-ups/push-ups/sit-ups.

It’d taken him a moment to place the familiarity but it could be excused he thought.

He’d only met his literal-bitch of an older half-sister _once_ after all.

At their unlamented father’s funeral.

Fortunately for her spawn, Derek carried off her stern features and dark looks better than Talia managed.

“Apparently.”

…

“Blackwood.”

“Constantine.”

…

According to his spies – Scott _really_ needed to work on his ability to keep secrets if he wanted to be a producer in reality tv – it took all of the three days between the selection ceremony and the first “announcement” moment that had an invite delivered to a certain suitor in the house to run all of the remaining suitors through their “impressions-of-Stiles” segments as well as the beginning dips into their thoughts on the other suitors.

And that was even with having both Corrine and Dr. Fenris to facilitate the interviews on Monday and Tuesday since while it took all day to film his own “impressions/confessional” segments with Fenris they _did_ manage to get it done.

Then while his suitors were doing their own filming with the show hosts Stiles was trapped by Natalie and Lydia into doing promo photo shoots and a television interview that was a “meet the new suitor searching for that Spark” publicity stunt to generate interest and hype before the show started airing the new season in a couple months.

Thank all the gods he was allowed his familiar, a four-year-old police-trained German Shepherd named Dax that his Dad had bought for the sheriff’s department only to have the large tri-color male with piercing gold eyes bond with his son on first sight when Stiles was home for his summer holidays from university, to be with him at the cottage or he’d be driven right up the wall without his puppy-cuddles and his canine friend to ground him.

No matter how much Lydia bitches about dog hair on his shooting clothes, as if she had any room to judge with her purse-puppy Prada and Dax stayed out of his wardrobe/dressing room in the cottage anyway, having just as healthy a respectful fear for Lydia as his spark companion.

But the first live-taping introduction for him as the newest “Spark Suitor” was on _Ellen_ and that alone almost made the whole experience worth it as he got to talk openly about trans issues and dynamism and supe-discrimination with an established ally side-by-side with doing the cutesy sound bites that framed him as a “Rebellious Omega With Edge” which was the angle Finstock wanted to run with.

It was hardly the first time he’d been slapped with that label in his life so he dealt and rolled with it, striding out onto the lovely stage at Ellen’s prompting while listening to her introduction spiel behind the curtain at stage left.

“Every year I say I’m not gonna watch and every year I do, let’s welcome this upcoming season’s newest hosting suitor for _The Spark_ , Stiles Stilinski!”

Stiles smiled and waved to the audience as he strode on stage in his black jeans and crisp red button down with the sleeves rolled up, exchanging cheek-kisses with the pretty blonde host and sitting at her prompting gesture.

“So, Stiles,” the show host smiled one of her famously infectious smiles.  “Can I call you Stiles?”

“Of course,” Stiles beamed right back at her, making sure the corners of his eyes crinkled.  “Anything for you.”

“Aww, you’re a charmer, aren’t you?”  She played along.  “Stiles is a nickname, right?  Your parents didn’t _really_ name you Stiles Stilinski?”

Stiles laughed, tilting his head to one side and showing off the long line of his throat to the cameras.

Having friends in show business had certainly been informative in how best to play to the camera and the audience, taking his ability to work a person or small group to his advantage to a whole new level.

Something which he was reasonably sure no one would ever thank Natalie and Lydia for once he was finished with the show and unleashed on the world.

“No, they didn’t.”  He said, eyes dancing.  “I was named for my paternal grandfather, actually, but in the States _Meredith_ is usually seen as a female name and I’m a guy so…”

“So, Stiles.”  She nodded, following and then moving the show along.  “The newest suitor on _The Spark_ and one that’s generating a lot of buzz regarding this season of the show being a breakout in terms of representation in television programming, let’s see if I get this right,” she started listing off the firsts that the show would claim ticking off fingers as she went while Stiles nodded along, smile never leaving his face.  “First supe hosting suitor for a dating show as _The Spark_ ,”

“Pun completely intended as far as I can tell.”  Stiles chimed in, grinning.  “We’re rare but I think the executives couldn’t help it when they decided to have a supe hosting suitor for this season.”

“Pun intended.”  She nodded, agreeing completely.  “First trans, some would say, hosting suitor _or_ competing suitor on a dating show – which we’ll talk about more in a moment.  First season of a dating show with more than token representation from the supernatural community among the competing suitors.  First season – without giving anything away – with a broad spectrum of sexes and dynamics represented.  First time a dating show has been open to an ending other than a monogamous couple pairing at the end.”  She raised her brows.  “That seems like a lot of firsts to pack into one show let alone a single season.”

“It is and it isn’t, I think.”  Stiles pouted his lips a moment before smiling once more.  “I mean, the trans thing is a matter of perspective.  I don’t consider myself trans.  I was born intersexed and then presented omega, yeah.  And a lot of people still, even in 2019, believe that that combination means that I should identify as either female – because I’m omegan – or as intersexed.  But I’m a guy.  I’ve always been a guy.  The fact that I can bear children if I choose to is completely separate from that and I think in the twenty-first century we shouldn’t be so quick to decide what someone can be or can’t be because of arbitrary identifiers like what’s in their pants or whether they experience heat, rut, or nothing at all.”

The host had to wait long moments for the applause and cheers to calm down before she could continue.

“So that’s my rant about the trans thing.”  Stiles finished a bit sheepishly.  “My body, my opinion, I’m sure there’s others out there who believe differently and that’s totally okay.”

“Having,” she held up a hand, quieting her audience.  “Having met your suitors – you have, right?”

“Yep, we filmed the first episode a couple days ago.”  Stiles smiled, nodding.

Which really was his motto for getting through the various interviews and promos he was contractually obligated to do: smile and nod.

“What do you think?  Did the producers live up to their own hype about inclusion and representation?”

“They definitely did.”  Stiles agreed, talking over the short burst of applause.  “Now that I’ve met everyone I really feel like Bobby and Alan and Natalie and everyone at _The Spark_ really listened to me when I talked about what was important to me and what I want and need in a partner or partners.”

“Which is an important distinction because as you’ve said, pun intended, you’re a Spark.  How does that effect this season of _The Spark_?”

“Well, the big one is no one knows how many mating bonds I’ll eventually need to fully ground my magic, which is why its rare to find a Spark that isn’t at least in a triadic bond let alone single even as young as I am at twenty-two.”

“So, we can expect that you might end up with more than one of your suitors?”

“Yeah, that’s a definite possibility.”

“Anyone you already feel that _spark_ with?”  She smirked over the pun even as he chuckled obligingly.

“You know I’m not supposed to name names.”  He played right back to her.  “But there’s a couple of people who’ve caught my eye, yeah.  But you know how these things go, anything can change at a moments’ notice.”

“Let’s get away from the show for a moment and talk about you,” she smiled, having gotten the segments that she was after.  “You’re twenty-two, California boy, went to college at the Merlinic Academy, have a successful consulting business.  What are you looking for in a partner?”

Stiles mentally ran through a couple of things that wouldn’t be complete repeats of answers he’s already given to the producers on _The Spark_ or various reporters he’s done print interviews for.

“A sense of family, I think, is a big one.”  Stiles said, sobering for a moment despite the slight curve he kept to his lips.  “I’m really close with my dad and whoever I end up with will need to respect that.  It’s just been us for a long time even though we’re close with my friends and their families my dad for a long time has been my number one and my number one supporter.  Other than that, I tend to be drawn to people who are confident with a sense of intelligence – and that doesn’t have to be the same thing as having a college degree.”  He made sure to clarify.  “It’s the teaching a fish to climb a tree dilemma.  Some of the best and most intelligent conversations I’ve had in my life were with people who didn’t pursue higher education so I’m definitely keeping an open mind in that regard.”

“I think keeping an open mind is perhaps one of the best descriptions of you I could come up with.”  Ellen noted with a soft, pleased laugh.

“I try.”

…

“Hey Stiles,” Natalie was a whirlwind spinning through his cottage when he retuned from filming at the talk show on Tuesday.  “I just need to confirm with you regarding the dates for the week.  Still the same line-up with a couple days to think about it?”

Stiles paused in brushing out Dax’s thick coat – to a huff from his friend – as he remembered who he’d chosen and for what date.

It was one of those weeks where not everyone would get to go on a date let alone get one-on-one attention but that couldn’t be helped.

At least they’d all get a chance to chat with him at the big group cocktail party before the selection ceremony later in the week.

“Yeah.”  He decided.  “No reason to change it now.”

“Okay, I’ll make arrangements to have the first invite sent over in the morning before your only one-on-one for the week.”

“Okay, see you over there in the AM after your daughter tortures me.”

“You’ve survived it this long.”  Natalie’s tone was as dry as the Sahara.  “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

…

One of the things that Stiles found interesting about _The Spark_ was their tendency to drop hints to the suitors regarding upcoming events – like dates – which then tended to lead to someone analyzing the _shit_ out of things until the reveal.

In the case of the first week, that took the form of a crossed spoon-and-spatula on the invite for the one-on-one, a wine glass on one of the group date invitations, and running shoes on the other group date invite.

They’d let him know the activities for the group dates – and Stiles being Stiles had had fun weighting them to hopefully get people out of their comfort zones – but he was as flying-blind as his date for the one-on-one.

When he saw the episode for himself, he laughed himself sick over some of the guesses that were tossed out, though he wasn’t surprised that more than one contestant came close if not were dead-on.

Even if no one believed them leading to more than one tense moment during the first group date with only high heels to go off of and there being a mix of sexes and dynamics invited.

But first he had his one-on-one, Lydia having dressed him in designer jeans that made his ass look fabulous, with a pressed cream dress shirt its sleeves rolled up _just so_ to his elbows, sleek gold watch with a brown leather band on his wrist, matching brown leather shoes and belt, all for a private cooking lesson with a semi-famous – internet famous, maybe – chef.

They filmed his approach to the house a couple of times as he held onto his patience, then Stiles made his way into – the obviously staged – living room where people had split up into the forming cliques that happened on every season of every reality show ever.

Every one of the contestants from what he could tell had been styled and arranged into “casual at home and comfortable” clothes and settings that weren’t actually casual, homey, or all that comfortable in practice no matter how it came through on-screen.

All except for Danny who was standing – and looking all dimply-and-adorable – with his bright white grin on full-display in pressed cream jeans, Lydia was a cheating cheater who cheats, and a purple dress shirt with a cream waistcoat nipping in his waist and showing off his tight swimmer’s body and the color of the shirt complementing the scattering of flat scales in deep purples and blues with a stray turquoise and silver scale on the side of Danny’s lean neck – and on his chest over his ribs though they were hidden at the moment – that revealed where his gills would be in his other form.

Which was to be expected.

Danny was a Mer, an alpha merman to be precise, of the Ni’ihau Shiver, with broad shoulders for _days_ , legs that didn’t quit, and dimples that – honestly – were unfair and the main reason he’d stood out to Stiles above and beyond what had shone as a rather affable personality for a species, and shiver, that were notorious warriors and fighters.

Nobody fucked with the Mer of the Forbidden Isle of the Hawaiian archipelago.

Nobody.

Though maybe that reputation was _why_ Danny could be so affable with flashing dimples.

Either way, Stiles was happy to be going on a one-on-one with the guy who he’d tried to talk to several times during the meet-and-greet but been stymied time and again by the combination of Danny’s seeming good nature and the aggressive tactics of some of the other suitors.

A chorus of greetings rang out from the suitors, Stiles smiling and saying hi to everyone before making his way over to Danny and offering his hand.

Stiles had always been tactile and saw no reason to change that now.

“I’ve been looking forward to getting to know you better all day, Danny.”  Stiles looked into soft – but with a sharpness to them that spoke of him being more than just a token “nice” guy – brown eyes.  “Ready to see what’s in store?”

“More than ready.”  Danny reached out and took his hand, shooting a few goodbyes over his shoulder to a few of the others who called out best wishes and good lucks to the Mer, Stiles nodding and waving his way out of the room and then the house where a SUV was already waiting for them.  “Where are we going?”

“That’s part of the surprise.”  Stiles told him honestly.  “Sometimes they let me know in advance and sometimes they don’t.”

“You don’t know this time do you?”  Danny asked a moment later, as he – gallantly – handed Stiles up into the back of the SUV, the pair unlinking hands afterwards though they sat next to each other.

“Nope.”  Stiles popped his lips on the ‘p’ with a grin he had on good authority made him look incorrigibly.  “Not a clue.”

“Ah, an adventure then.”  Danny grinned, so boyishly charming it should be illegal.  “Excellent.”

“Here’s hoping.”

…

Stiles wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the rather nondescript building they’d been driven to wasn’t quite it though when they stepped inside he saw why: they’d been driven to a television studio.

Whatever they were doing it was part of a promo for the show.

Thankfully, they were let to an empty soundstage with a kitchen step-up holding only production staff and a tv show host rather than a live audience.

“Stiles, Danny!”  Corrine greeted them all smiles as the cameras started to roll once their make-up had been touched up.  “Welcome to your first date of season five of _The Spark!_   Today you’ll be having a cooking lesson that will be aired the morning of the episode and then enjoying the fruits of your labor in a romantic dinner!”

“Sounds like fun.”  Danny gave his lines with an appropriately-beaming grin, sharing a look with Stiles.  “What’re we making today?  Fair warning,” he looked sheepishly over at Stiles who was taking in the ingredients and trying to figure it out.  “I’m not much of a cook.  Ramen and salads are my friends.”

“Said like any other American bachelor our age.”  Stiles teased him gently, shaking his head in mock-exasperation.  “Fortunately, I do know at least the basics but I’m not sure what we’re making.”  He waved at the collection of ingredients and equipment that was laid out.

“Your lesson today,” the host of the show – not Corrine, the other one – piped up with a showman’s flourish.  “Is on dumplings, the best of which will be served with your meal later.  You’ll be learning soup dumplings, gyoza, and Nepali momo plus a Japanese style dipping sauce and Indian chutney.”

Stiles’s eyes widened and he shared a legitimately-excited look with Danny.

“That actually sounds like a lot of fun.”  Stiles said, Danny nodded and putting a hand on his back as they were motioned forward to wash their hands and get started.

A hand that for all Danny, like most Mer, ran cooler than a human or other supes was actually quite, ah, _warm_ through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“It looks like a lot though…”  Danny sighed, playing up the _unsure-cooking-challenged-Alpha_ trope.  “I don’t want to give us food poisoning.”

“Yeah.”  Stiles laughed as he scrubbed at his hands.  “That’d be bad but I think they’ll have us covered.”

The host chuckled and told them in a conspirational tone: “dumplings are one of those foods that _look_ like a lot of work but once you know how are actually quite easy.  You’ll be fine.”

“Alright,” they stepped up to the counter standing with only a few inches of space between them at Corrine’s direction.  “Where do we start?”

…

The problem Stiles had found over the years with a lot of “nice” guys was that _nice_ wasn’t an actual personality trait.

 _Nice_ was the bare-minimum of manners expected of an adult in modern society.

If _nice_ was the best thing a person had going for them it said a _lot_.

Danny, thankfully, wasn’t only a nice guy – looks aside.

He also hadn’t been lying about his lack of cooking skills, even if that and Stiles’s own abilities – while nothing spectacular – Stiles could already see playing into the alpha/omega stereotype that Hollywood liked to push.

But, and it was a big but, for every dumpling Danny tore by packing it with too much filling or ingredient he fumbled and ended up decorating his apron – in a plain white with _The Spark_ and a rose emblem over the top of the clothing protector in a bold red – there was a genuine laugh or a self-deprecating joke to go with it.

He didn’t get embarrassed when Stiles had to rush to save their dipping sauce from boiling over.

When he at first couldn’t get the folding technique to work for the momo, he didn’t get frustrated or pissy, instead taking the opportunity to step up to Stiles’s back and wrap his impressive swimmer’s arms around Stiles in a faux-embrace with Stiles “showing”, and yes, Stiles was a plotting plotter who plots but it was a _fine_ body, Danny how to work with the dumpling wrapper including guiding his hands through a few of the folds, Danny’s head tucked so close to Stiles that they were almost cheek-to-cheek.

On the episode, Stiles had a blush cresting his cheekbones through most of the lesson after that “moment” but at the time all he could do was be epically thankful that the countertop hid everything from the waist-down as having the other male pressed so close was playing merry hell on his libido.

They talked about their favorite foods – loco moco and curly fries respectively, and Stiles had to admit that while the loco moco sounded a bit weird it also sounded delish – their dogs (Danny had an old chocolate lab back home in Hawaii) and a bit about their families, the pair of them gregarious enough that when standard getting-to-know-you questions failed, jokes about Danny’s lack of cooking ability or Stiles’s occasional clumsiness kept them going without intervention from the production staff.

Finally when Corrine prompted them to wrap it up, having gotten enough shots for the episode of them being cute during the cooking lesson – including where the host talked them through proper cooking techniques for the three different dumpling types – Stiles shot a mischievous glance at Danny, arching a brow in a clear “what to see something cool?” expression.

A half-smile curved over Danny’s handsome face, intrigue lighting his eyes, and the merman nodded.

Stiles grinned and all around them empty dumpling wrappers started floating through the air and rushing over to the bowls of filling, spoons lifting and dumping perfect measures of filling into the wrappers, when then crimped and folded themselves into perfect little packages, all while Stiles’s eyes lit with a soft – since this wasn’t an overly strenuous use of power – glow that made his whiskey-brown eyes take on an amber sheen as the completed dumplings lined themselves up on empty sheet trays while the cooking-host spluttered and several of the production staff goggled.

Which Stiles couldn’t blame them for it even as Scott laughed in the background at the – for Stiles – mild showing off as Corrine hissed to the cameramen to make sure they got reaction shots of Danny’s face.

And Danny, almost perfectly on cue, gave voice to what everyone who’d never seen a Spark in action was thinking.

“I don’t know if that was more Disney’s _Fantasia_ or the scene from _Sleeping Beauty_ where Fauna uses her magic to bake Aurora’s sixteenth birthday cake.”

Stiles tossed his head back and laughed as the magic died down with when he ran out of dumpling wrappers and filling, reaching out and taking Danny’s offered hand as Scott rushed over to escort them to the dinner-dining scene of their date to be plied with food and wine – good news for their starting-to-grumble stomachs.

“Where do you think I got the idea?”  He paused then added: "You know the green fairy's name?"

Danny blushed and Stiles couldn't take the cuteness overload when he mumbled something about younger sisters, leaning over and placing one warm, lingering kiss to a rich-red-tinged cheek just to the side of that prettily-shaped mouth.

Oh yeah.

He was keeping this one around for a hot minute unless something - as he'd told Ellen - changed drastically.

…


	4. Chapter 4

** The Spark **

**Chapter Four: Comfort Zones**

One thing _The Spark_ did – at least in the first half of the show – was give him the option of handing out “date roses” that gave a suitor immunity from being sent home at the selection ceremony.

Stiles didn’t _have_ to give one out every date – whether it was a one-on-one or group date or whatever – except for during the two-on-ones where it was expected that he would keep one suitor and the other would be sent straight home to add drama and suspense to the show.

He offered Danny his rose in a moment that came across as almost painfully-tender on-screen, Stiles having plucked it up from its holder on a side-table as they stood to walk out to the limo, offering it as they linked their far hands on the top of the open limo door.

Danny accepted it, twirling the rose in his hand before twining it between his fingers, holding the stem back with his thumb as he linked the rose-holding hand behind Stiles’s neck in a gentle cupping motion the cream of the petals almost glowing against Stiles’s dark brown hair.

“Thank you,” Danny said then dipped his head and echoed Stiles’s earlier brief-but-meaningful caress with a press of lips that were just a bit rough from sea air to the corner of his mouth, almost-but-not-quite kissing him.  “I’m excited to continue getting to know you, Stiles.”

“Thank _you_ for making my first date fun and awesome.”  Stiles told him honestly, their brown eyes locked together and only breaking once Corrine chivvied Danny into the limo and forced them to unlink – hands, eyes, etc.

“Trust me: it was my pleasure.”

…

“Why do I have to ride in the van?”  Stiles complained to his best-bro with a pout, all big-eyes.

“Because if we let you in an enclosed space with Danny right now you’re going to want to climb him like a tree.”  Scott told him in a deadpan, knowing his best-friend and his… _proclivities_.  “And you said you don’t want to come off as a slut so…”

“Damn you and your sense making.”

“I got your back, bro.  Even when your dick wished I didn’t.”  Scott grinned, not taking offense.  “Ready for the post-date post-mortem with Dr. Fenris?”

Stiles sighed, wishing he could just enjoy the post-good-date-glow for a moment.  But the show must go on and he’d signed up for this bullshit so… 

“If I must, I must.”

“At least you’re not walking into a house full of other suitors waiting to dissect every last moment of your date.”

Stiles brightened at that.

The man had a point.

Fenris might be incisive, but at least there was only _one_ of him, not over two dozen.

Poor Danny – polite or not – was walking into a veritable (and almost literal considering that he’d noted Peter’s species of shifter on the cheat-sheet Scott had finally shown him in greater detail) lion’s den.

Hopefully, the tiger shifter wasn’t a _literal_ man-eater or they were going to have problems down the line…though that seemed more Erica or Kali’s style than the suave, metropolitan interpreter’s.

Stiles would _hate_ to have to send the ridiculously attractive shifter home because he couldn’t play nice with others.

…

The dirty, unspoken truth of reality shows is that whenever there was a competition element, the longer the contestants stayed on the show the bigger the paycheck they were given at the end of it.

Stiles – being the “star” – got a flat-figure that included all the filming plus promos.

Everyone else?

Well, there was a signing amount that was guaranteed for being selected that was almost an incentive for actually showing up for the first round of selections e.g. the meet-and-greet.

Lydia told him weeks ago that every year there was usually one and sometimes more people who ended up backing out or having some kind of conflict that made them have to bring in alternates – and those alternates usually ended up acting like they had something to prove.

Stiles wouldn’t have been surprised to find out Kate was an alternate though apparently they hadn’t had an issue with people backing out for his season.

Apparently the chance of ending up mated to a Spark was tempting enough on its lonesome even without the monetary element in play.

So while there were a lot of reasons in the early episodes for the dramatics that tended to go on, at the core it could be distilled down to the bottom line since unless they were already well-established and making good money – like Stiles – most of the contestants probably stood to earn more than they lost by taking a leave of absence from their jobs by being kept on the show.

Especially since secrecy being such a big deal it wasn’t like the contestants that got sent home actually got to _go home_ but had to live in a different house elsewhere away from filming and were kept basically in seclusion until the end where everyone got to go home under threats of lawsuits to keep their mouths shut about the order of eliminations.

A thought that was never very far from Stiles’s – and many of the contestants’ – minds as he and Danny were pounced on for their impressions of how the date went _and_ each other.

…

Danny almost walked into the show house still on cloud nine after the – frankly, awesome – date.

While he’d had dates in the past that ended in _real_ kisses or in bed, a few that were more active or fun, as far as making an _impression_ Stiles had hit it out of the park with his sarcastic, almost biting, sense of humor, ease of conversation (even if he did babble at times but that was just cute), and great chemistry.

That Danny’s innate magic – most supes had _some_ form of personal magics if not the flash and dazzle that magic _users_ were known for – had honest-to-Kanaloa _danced_ in his veins when Stiles had sent his spinning around the kitchen set officially put their date in Danny’s top-five-ever dates he’d been on.

Though if he’d forgotten they were on a dating show, he was quickly reminded as he walked in with the rose he’d trimmed down the stem of – so it wouldn’t look absurd – tucked behind his ear and was directed with a no-nonsense motion from Corrine to the great room where all the other “suitors” were waiting to give him the nth-degree over the date and what Stiles had been like.

Showing particular interest, naturally, to any possibly-salacious details they might pry from his cold-dead-hands – he wasn’t one to kiss-and-tell even when said-kissing was going to be aired on national television – or otherwise get him to spill.

Jackson – who’d he’d clicked with the best so far out of the contestants, especially with both of them being from traditionally-oceanic bound species of supes – arched a brow as he spied the rose – and guarantee that Danny was staying another week – at his temple as he tossed his arm over Danny’s shoulders and led him to an empty-and-waiting armchair and pushed him down into it putting the merman in the metaphorical hotseat and propping himself on the arm of the chair as everyone else arrayed themselves in a circle around him.

An obvious arrangement that had been done by the crew while he’d been out since he didn’t remember seeing the barstools out of the kitchen before he left and was rather certain that the cream-leather couch had been in the living room by the fireplace but with this many people still in it – most dating shows chopped the contestants down to under twenty in the first episode – he supposed adjustments had to be made from the normal layouts the show had used on other seasons.

“So, how was it?”  Jackson drawled.  “Other than the obvious.”  He tapped one manicured finger against the smooth rose stem.

“What’d you do?”

“Where’d you go?”

“Did you kiss him?”

“Screw that, did he kiss _you_?”

The outpouring of those four questions in various iterations all-but-leapt from the more extroverted housemates though he noted even those that weren’t – thus far – ones for much conversation like Broody-Derek and Loner-Boyd were paying close attention.

Danny laughed, sinking back into the chair and linking his hands over his flat stomach, reveling in the sensation of holding all the cards for a long moment before deciding to stop toying with them before a few – _Kali, Erica, Ennis_ – entertained serious thoughts of strangling him or smothering him while he slept.

A serious concern with Ennis considering he was a minotaur whose muscles had muscles and was the physically-strongest contender – not an easy thing to claim with a tiger shifter around – and more than capable of overpowering Danny.

Well.

As long as they were on land.

The second the massive male stepped into water it would be _on_ but semantics.

“Cheek-kisses were exchanged.”  Danny told them, knowing it was – other than information that would help the others figure out their approaches for those smart enough to think about that kind of thing which, not to be mean, wasn’t all of them – the question they all wanted answered.  “I get the feeling that Stiles isn’t interested in giving the public a chance to call him names as far as his behavior with us is concerned.”

“He doesn’t want to come off as a slut.”  Erica nodded sagely, getting it for all that she and a few others weren’t shy to play up their sexuality.

“He’s a businessman.”  Noshiko pointed out dryly.  “His reputation is important to his continued success.”

Danny took on a pensive expression at that.  He didn’t think it was that – not necessarily – after having felt Stiles’s magic.  And how _much_ of it the Spark could call up.  People would be _idiots_ to shun hiring him because he kissed a couple – or even a couple dozen – people on national television.

“You have a thought.”  Peter noted, perceptively.  “Do share.”

Pursing his lips Danny summed it up for them without giving away anything he could use to advantage.

He _was_ competing both with and against these people after all.

And there was such a thing as being _too_ nice.

“He showed off his magic a little at the end of our cooking lesson – that was the date by the way, cooking lesson with dinner to follow – making things float, that sort of thing.  I don’t think his career as a magical consultant is in any danger no matter _what_ happens over the course of the season.”

“Did he?”  Duke spoke up, interest clear in both face and voice, the same for the other remaining magic user, Mark.  “Was it easy for him, would you say?  Or more of an effort?”

“As easy as breathing.”  Danny admitted.  “I’ve never seen anyone use magic that easy.”

“Then he really is a Spark,” Duke noted.  “Not that it was ever in question.  His power nearly drips from him.  But confirmation is always nice to have regardless.”

“Spark or no spark, I’d still want to date him.”  Malia declared in their rather blunt manner.  “He’s hot.”

“Coyote girl has a point.”  Erica grinned.

“Shut up, dog breath.”

“Cute, coming from a _scavenger_.  Had any roadkill lately?”

A sub-vocal growl and flashing-gold eyes had Derek and Corrine stepping in to separate the alpha female – and alpha intersexed which was likely why Malia jumped straight to an insult at being called a girl – before the pair could unsheathe literal claws instead of just verbal ones.

As the most powerful wolf shifter and coyote shifter in the house Derek and Corrine would end up wrangling the contentious pair even though Corrine was the show’s host and not present at all times, much like Ethan would be expected to keep a handle on the other Fae, and Noshiko keep an eye on Kira and so on.

All part and parcel of having so many supernatural species living in close quarters.

Though at least the production staff had had _sense_ enough not to stick alphas in the same bedrooms together no matter their species, as that was just _asking_ for bloodshed and contestants getting booted for violating the no-violence clause in their contracts.

“And so it begins.”  Peter narrated with a darkly-amused tone as he watched the other shifters being hauled bodily out of the room to cool down.

“Shouldn’t you be helping?”  Chris asked, rather amused himself.

Peter gave a lazy stretch in wordless answer, tucking his hands behind his head and crossing his outstretched legs at the ankle.

“No one wants a tiger to interfere in shifter matters, darling.”  He answered as he gave the room at large one of those lazy slow-blinks cats were notorious for.  “It’s considered rather overkill and contrary to de-escalating a situation.”

“Why’s that?”  Allison asked in honest curiosity.

Kali snorted rolling her dark eyes at the ignorance of humans.

“Because if a situation is dangerous enough to get a tiger to give a shit, let alone rouse themselves to intervene, you’ve already passed the point of no return.”  Peter said patiently, looking entirely too pleased with that status quo.

…

“Here we are again, Stiles.”  Dr. Fenris smiled as they filmed in the mini-setup they had in the cottage rather than the bigger “interview” rooms in the main house to keep him away from whatever drama they have brewing among the contestants.

Which really wasn’t fair that Stiles didn’t get to see any of the nitty-gritty until the actual show – that none of them are even allowed to _see_ episodes of the show until after it was over, letting all of America get to see it all about two months before him – that he was totally going to binge-watch to catch up on the behind-the-scenes drama with his dad when he goes into “seclusion” until the live reunion show after the finale.

“What made you decide to give Danny a rose and mark him safe from elimination?”

Ignoring his impulsive _have you_ seen _Danny_ that threatened to jump off the tip of his tongue, he was glad he’d gotten something resembling a filter since high school even if it was faulty at times, he pretended to pause even though he’d been thinking of what he was going to say to Conrad the entire ride back to the house, Scott more than ready to play semi-impartial sounding board since there were no cameras on them in the van.

“Danny is easy to talk to.”  Stiles answered.  “I really feel comfortable around him most of the time and want to get to know him better, it’s one of the reasons I selected him over a few of the others and chose him for the one-on-one.”

“What other reasons did you have?”

“Well,” Stiles chuckled a little sheepishly.  “Have I mentioned his dimples?”

“A time or two.”  Conrad smiled, playing along as he did.  “You seem quite taken with him.”

“There’s a lot there to be taken with.”

“What about the flip side?”  Conrad dug a little.  “What’s something that makes you pause about Danny?  Is there anything?”

“His home and shiver are a barrier, for sure.”  Stiles told him – and he was being one-hundred percent honest about it.  “He’s from Hawaii and obviously loves it there and is close to his family, plus being a Mer needs to be if not close to natural salt water like the ocean then needs accommodations to live in a landlocked area.”

“Like Beacon Hills.”

“Yeah, like Beacon Hills, so that’s a definite issue we’ll have to talk about as things progress.”

“Would you be willing to move?  Not necessarily for Danny but in general?”

“It depends.”  Stiles shrugged.  “I have a good life in Beacon Hills but its more of a base because I travel often for work.  I could have a base somewhere else but it really depends on the needs of whoever I end up with.  I would want to stay within a reasonable traveling distance to visit my dad, however everything else shakes out.”

“Something to keep in mind going forward, perhaps.”

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

…

The next morning while Danny was filming his “confessional” segment about their date with Corrine, Stiles was outfitted in another jeans and button-down shirt though at least this time Lydia let him wear his Deadpool hi-tops even if she vetoed a t-shirt.

His button down was even a nice blue-on-blue plaid so almost-wins all around especially when he was cleared to walk over with Dax instead of having to leave his familiar in the cottage while the filmed the “invitation delivery” segment with the remaining suitors who, basically, weren’t Danny.

When he’d gotten there and the entrance-shots were done, he found them all arrayed in the great room again though this time rather than “trying to be casual” it was a bunch of “way too attractive to be their actual pajamas” outfits and every one of the females and Isaac had on makeup.

Even if it was “natural” makeup, it was still there and very apparent to his eyes even if it wouldn’t as obvious to the television audience that every last rumpled set of pajama bottoms, almost-too-small white tank tops, and _hey look at my abs_! because I don’t sleep in a shirt! wearing people in that circle of coffee-clutching, tea-drinking, pop-tart or fruit nibblers was staged.

Not like he could really judge given that every moment of him on-camera was picked-over by Lydia before allowing him to be unleashed on the sets but he could still find the humor – and absurdity – of all the planning, plotting, and details that went into making “reality” television.

More than one of the suitors let out honest-to-god _coos_ at the sight of Dax looking spiffy and freshly brushed with that day’s date invitation tied to a bow around his neck, Allison, Kira, and Isaac among them.

“Aww,” one of the twins pouted – apparently on Danny’s behalf because: “Danny’s missing meeting the puppy!”

Stiles laughed, rubbing one thumb gently over the nasal furrow on Dax’s head as his _very good boy_ sat primly at his side without panting or drooling, helped along by their familiar-companion bond that let the canine know that this was an important thing but not stressful.

He waited for the cue then looked down at his buddy and nodded, giving a quiet command then pointing at a particular suitor whose reaction to his familiar he was particularly interested in seeing.

Looking beyond stiff, Noshiko _barely_ unbent enough to untie the invitation from around Dax’s neck, the familiar responding to her lack of warmth with a sniff before turning with a wave of his plume of a tail and nearly pranced over to Allison and Kira who were sitting next to each other and softly patting their legs to try and summon him to their side – after an approving nod from his person.

While the two younger contestants – and Liam and Isaac who were flanking them – were occupied with the dog, Noshiko slid open the flap of the envelope and read the invitation out to the rest of the room who were all – except those occupied by puppy dog eyes and giving pets – anxiously waiting for the list of names and the clue that would be hidden in the wording.

“Kali, Noshiko, Peter, Derek, Boyd, Malia, and Ethan,” the last name of which had a few of the others watching the twin with narrowed eyes since he was getting a date on the back of being picked first.  But what could Stiles say?  He wasn’t above a little pot-stirring.  “I look forward to your company on an evening out.  Life is too short to drink cheap wine.  Stiles.  And there’s a wine glass drawn beside his name.”

“See you all there and remember,” Stiles smiled at several of the contestants who’d visibly drooped when their name wasn’t called.  Especially since every name called was of a supe.  “There is one more date this week before our party and selection ceremony and I look forward to spending time – no matter how little – getting to know each and every one of you.”

With that Stiles lightly clicked his tongue, summoning Dax who was in belly-rubs-heaven, and exited stage right as prompted by Natalie.

…

“What was with the dog?”  Delilah asked after Stiles had left.

“I’m more interested in that Stiles had only taken supes on dates and that five out of seven suitors eliminated were mundane humans.”  Victoria complained – call a spade a spade: she bitched.  “He has a clear bias.”

More than one person rolled their eyes at _that_.

“Of course he does.”  Kali snorted, arching a superior brow.  “ _He_ is a supe himself.  It’s understandable if he’s more comfortable with his _own kind_.”

“Uh,” Danny frowned as he walked in a few minutes later in what looked like World War Three between Kali, Ennis, and Erica on one side and Victoria, Delilah, Amber, and Crystal on the other.  “What’d I miss?”

“Stiles came by with his familiar to hand – or paw, since the dog was the one with the envelope – deliver the date invitation for tonight.”  Jackson explained, _actually eating popcorn_ to Danny’s incredulous gaze, the twins joining him, because Jackson was extra like that.  “He’s taking all supes, then he went out with you last night, plus apparently Victoria there,” he waved to the redhead with a razor-sharp asymmetrical bob.  “Can do basic math.  Words were said.  And now,” he offered the bag of microwave popcorn to his roommate.  “Popcorn?”

Danny sighed, grabbing a piece of wall and some oversalted goodness, and prepared to be entertained.

Then the important tidbit hit him.

“Aww.”  He pouted, not even faking it for the cameras, though it would’ve been the remotes and not the actual manned ones since the cameraman on duty – he thought it was the creeper Matt who was always _way_ too into getting suggestive shots of several of the girls – was on top of the bitch fest like white-on-rice.  “I missed meeting Dax?”

“That his name?”  Jackson asked, filing it away for later brownie points with Stiles.  “Then yes.  You missed meeting Dax but since he’s a familiar I’m sure we’ll all be spending time with him at one point or another.”

“True.”

Magic users, after all, took on a whole new meaning to the phrase “love me, love my dog” due to the bonds that existed between familiar and companion.

“So, who’s going on the date then?”

…

“Good evening, suitors.”  Corrine smiled brightly for the cameras as they were let out of the limo in front of the tall brick building that looked like a renovated or repurposed factory from the outside, only the large wrought-iron and copper signs that said things like “wine tasting” and “craft beer” below the large business sign telling of the reality of what waited inside.  “Welcome to our first group date of the season.  Does anyone know where we are?”  She waited a beat as they were prompted to let her even though they could all read.  “This is D-I-Wine, a tasting room and pub that specializes in active and entertaining nights out.  Stiles is already waiting inside,” she smiled wider as they shifted, eagerness plain.  “But first:” she paused for drama.  “With seven suitors on this group date, we are going to have a little pop-quiz to see how well you took advantage of both your previous conversations with our wonderful Spark but _also_ your fellow suitors.”

“What do we get when we win?”  Kali called out, arching a brow and looking unimpressed in her little black dress and six-inch gold stilettos.

“The person with the highest score on the quiz gets ten minutes of uninterrupted Stiles-time.  Worth playing for?”

A chorus of yeses and cheers and claps sounded from the suitors as Corrine nodded for the PAs to start passing around small personal white-boards and dry erase markers.

There was a break as the crew set up an easel with a series of poster boards containing the answers to the questions Corrine had on her cue cards in her hands, each poster containing _“The Spark”_ logo at the top and on the back with a rose blossom border then once they were set, they began.

“First question suitors,” she smirked since it was something they’d all been told before ever meeting Stiles.  Every suitors had gotten a very-brief information sheet on him, just a few bullet-points really, name, age, occupation.  And given that it’d never been used _once_ by anyone involved in the show, it really made for a good first trick-question.  “What is Stiles’s first name?”

More than one of the suitors groaned and fussed at that but there were three who wrote quickly, the others just slapping down whatever they could remember – which amounted to a quartet of random M names.

“Well, you all remember the first initial at least.”  Corrine drawled, then nodded at the other three.  “Noshiko, Peter, Derek, you’re all correct.  Stiles’s first name is Meredith.”

When the episode aired there was a point-counter graphic that light up the right side of the screen which gained a bar for each of them at Corrine’s announcement.

“Next question, coming off of the first: what are the names of Stiles’s dad and familiar?”  Then she warned them: “half-credit won’t be given for knowing one, you need both to win this question.”

More frowns and grumbles, which quickly gave way to the revelation that only Ethan knew Dax’s name and Malia, Boyd, Kali, and Peter, Noah’s.

“Oh,” Corrine winced on their behalf.  “Sorry suitors, no one gains a point for that round.  How about an easier question?  What is Stiles’s favorite food?”

Five-out-of-seven knew curly fries, with only Noshiko and Kali missing out, bringing Derek and Peter into a one-point tie for the lead over the others.

By the time three more questions had sped by (favorite color, favorite song, and favorite flavor of ice cream), Noshiko had rejoined uncle-and-nephew, though still with only a one-point lead over the next set of Ethan and Boyd, with Malia a point back, and Kali one behind her.

“Final question and worth three points.”  Corrine grinned viciously, enjoying watching them fidget since it was a guaranteed win for some of them if they were the only one to guess correctly while for Kali it would bring her into the lead-tie with the others and force a bonus round.  “What field did Stiles almost pursue instead of attending the Merlinic Academy?”

This, even Corrine had to admit, _was_ a bit of a reach since Stiles had only mentioned it to Duke _but_ it had come up in conversation between the magic-users Duke and Mark and been disseminated through the house.

The question was: were they paying _attention_ to information the might not _seem_ important – since Stiles had chosen a different path and career – but in this case actually said a lot about him.

Frowns and thoughtful expressions abounded as at a thirty-second warning markers scribbled over the surface of the boards, more than one looking dissatisfied with their answer.

Though, one in particular, had a blank expression that could be taken as either defeat or confidence.

“Alright, suitors, time’s up.  Show your answers!”

There were a couple that were throw-away answers from Ethan and Malia alike of superhero and Batman apiece, while Noshiko, Kali, and Peter had all written down a field in STEM.

Of the incorrect answers the closest was Derek who’d written “forensics.”

But it was Boyd who took the game – and the prize – with his answer of “law enforcement – FBI.”

The others – for the most part – smiled and congratulated the tall and quiet wolf, especially Derek who’d sort of befriended him as the other less-gregarious member of the suitors.

“Now, are you ready for your date?”  Corrine prompted to cued-applause and cheers from the suitors.  “Stiles is waiting inside with your host for the evening, enjoy!”

…

Stiles had to hold in a snicker at the looks of near-dismay that were quickly covered up on the faces of a few of the suitors when the penny-dropped about what kind of date they were on – and it wasn’t a fancy-dancy wine-tasting.

No, what D-I-Wine – and he loved the pun, really he did – specialized in was events like paint-and-sip nights or sparkles-and-sips or other types of events that were an excuse to drink and do arts and/or crafts.

Though for this event – the show having reserved the whole venue for filming and the location getting free advertising out of the deal – anything that might end in blood was put away like hammers and sewing machines.

Scott had whispered in his ear where he was chatting and waiting with the manager, Stacy, for the little contest to be over for the date to begin that Boyd had won the quiz – which, ok, not what he expected but that was kinda the point of the little contests scattered through the show – and that they would be coming inside in a minute, prompting them to get up and on their marks to greet the suitors as they were led inside one at a time to where they waited in front of the long oak bar.

Rather than being dressed up, Stiles was in an almost identical outfit to earlier though he’d traded out his button-down for a soft Henley in a heathered blue, and he almost – almost he wasn’t a total jerk – smirked at the sight of the cocktail dress on Kali or the sparkly wrap-shirt on Noshiko.

Some of the contestants had it easier than others, shrugging out of suit jackets and rolling up sleeves, but Kali – who’d gone all-out cocktail-chic – was kinda screwed and overdressed.

Stiles probably shouldn’t be as entertained by that as he was.

A good person wouldn’t be entertained by another’s discomfort.

Stiles, however, had never claimed to be a _good_ person and was also, often a little shit.

At least he didn’t – audibly – laugh, snort, or snicker at the miscalculation.

Something he was rather glad of when the suitors were unleashed to pick their projects for the “d-i-y” portion of the date and Kali ended up bending forks – yes, _forks_ – to make bangle bracelets in an absent display of strength that had him once again feeling a strange mixture of terrified and turned on.

Stiles did rounds of all the crafts/art project tables that the others had claimed while downing wines or beers infused with whatever-it-took for them to get intoxicated.

A challenge that of them all Ethan had the easiest time of since while the Fae had a _greater_ tolerance for alcohol than mundane humans, it just took about a 2-to-1 ration of drinks to affect him rather than having to have his beer – a golden summer ale that Stiles liked as well – spiked with wolfsbane or wolf lichen or bloodstone powder or thorn apple like the shifters, kitsune, and vampire.

That Stiles actually _knew_ what suppressed supe healing for intoxication to take hold he blamed on one: it being helpful knowledge both for a magical consultant and the son of a sheriff alike; and two: he went to college, ok?

Any of the suitors could do any of the crafts or projects – or more than one depending on how quickly they finished – while Matt and Theo (his not-favorite cameramen but the ones that were mostly attached to Corrine so whatever) circuited the room capturing film of him working with and talking and flirting with the different contestants or looking out for sour-faced expressions they could use later with voice-overs or for any quiet discussions between the suitors or what-have-you.

It was fun, watching the supes – himself included – do things that weren’t helped along by their advanced physical abilities, taking them a bit out of their comfort zones and putting them in a situation where they had to be creative.

Magic, after all, down at the bones of things, was all about creation.

Even when it was used in a destructive manner, it still created energy or a reaction at the end result.

Though he couldn’t help but be a _little_ mesmerized when he was directed over to the table being shared by Boyd and Derek by the quick and precise little folds and crimps and twists Derek used to turn squares of paper into intricate origami sculptures – including a little wolf made of a black paper with a silvery sheen.

“That is _so cool_.”  Stiles breathed, eyes wide as Derek showed him how to pull the tail on a crane to make the wings move, or where to press on a frog’s hind-end to force it to hop.  “Where did you learn how to do this?”

Derek shrugged.  “The alpha of a neighboring pack growing up was originally from Japan.  She taught all us kids how to do origami as a way to keep us occupied during meetings or to help keep us from being jittery.”

Stiles smiled as Derek poked a little hole in the back of the little wolf and strung it on a piece of string stolen from a nearby table, fashioning it into a makeshift necklace.

If Stiles could barely get out a thank you from blushing so hard, that was his business no matter how flustered it came across during the episode.

Which, naturally, was Corrine’s cue to hustle Stiles and Boyd to a different room for a drink and Boyd’s promised one-on-one time.

…

Note:

For those interested in the crafts:

No-Sew Leather Jewelry Pouch (Malia); Teacup/mug candles (Ethan); Colorful Nail-Polish Bangles (Noshiko); Bent-Fork Bangle Bracelets (Kali); Scrabble-Tile Coasters (Peter); Painted Cardboard/Waxed Paper Lanterns (Boyd); Origami (Derek)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second Selections and Cuts

** The Spark **

**Chapter Five: Mislaid Bets**

“Kali.”

“Scary but scary-hot.”

“Noshiko.”

“Stern.”

“Ethan.”

Stiles smirked at Dr. Fenris as he led him through a round of word-association during his post-group-date check-in.

“Whoops.”

“Whoops?”  Conrad arched a brow.

“He spilled hot wax down his arm and shirt trying to make candles.  He was okay, Fae heal pretty fast if not shifter-fast, so,” Stiles explained.  “Whoops.”

“That must’ve made for a bit of excitement during your date.”

“It definitely livened things up for a bit.”  Stiles rolled his eyes.  “If I hadn’t seen it for myself I would’ve thought it was impossible for that many alpha supes to be that quiet and focused in an enclosed room.  Well.”  He shrugged.  “Except for Boyd.  I kinda ended up feeling bad because I hadn’t realized I’d stuck the poor guy in a room full of alphas, me as an omega, and him the only beta having to deal with all those hormones.”

“Let’s get back to the word-associations before we dive further into the date.”  Fenris filed that away to circle back around to, along with the spilled-wax debacle.  “Boyd.”

“Observant.”

“Malia.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose a little.

“Literal.”

“Peter.”

“Clever.”

“Derek.”

“Rose.”

“Would you say after two dates and time to get to know some of the suitors that you can see yourself mating some of them more-so than others?”  Conrad spring-boarded off of Derek being the rose-recipient for the group-date (though no kisses of any kind were exchanged) to get into the nitty-gritty of things.

“Easily.”  Stiles nodded.  “This week I wanted to get to know people I hadn’t gotten a good sense of during the meet-and-greet and hopefully after tomorrow’s date and the pool party on Saturday I’ll have accomplished that.”

Conrad held in an eye roll.

Stiles was almost too good at playing the game for his – and their – own good when it came to keeping Conrad from digging out the sound-bites and secrets and admissions from him that they needed from him to make if not _quality_ then at least entertaining television.

“Let’s talk about Derek.”  Conrad came at it from a different angle.  “He’s not the most social suitor this season while you are very outgoing and extroverted.  Can you see yourself bonding to someone so introverted?”

“Yeah, of course.”  Stiles almost scoffed.  “I wouldn’t have given him the date-rose if not.  He might not be jumping up and down for my attention but he makes the most of it when he has it.”

“What went through your mind when he gave you the origami wolf necklace he made?”

“That he is definitely a hidden softy.”  Stiles grinned.  “Derek looks like the big bad wolf but on the inside he’s all marshmallow.  And that works for me so far.”

“Are you concerned about his contentious relationship with Peter?”

“That makes it seem like they _have_ a relationship in the first place which from what I can tell isn’t the case.  I don’t know the story there but the two of them might as well be strangers for all the awkward-turtle moments when they get shoved together.”  His grin was nothing short of wicked.  “Good genes though.”

…

There was a massive buzz of tense anticipation as Stiles entered the house with Corrine late the next morning and found everyone waiting in the great room, even the suitors who would be spending the day filming their own post-date reaction interviews with Dr. Fenris while Stiles and his – smaller – group of suitors were off on the last date of the week.

And he was more than a little amped up for it.

Not necessarily because it would put some of the suitors on the back foot – he’d actually rather intentionally avoided choosing anyone who’d be completely miserable since that was an actual concern given the date ahead – but because they were going to do something he honestly enjoyed.

“Good morning everyone.”  Stiles grinned at all of them – half still in their camera-appropriate “just-woke-up” attire and the other half in daywear.

Though in a definite case of not-fair-for-Stiles’s-libido but would make good fan-service shots both Danny and Jackson were in tiny swim trunks with towels wrapped around their necks and looking unholy-levels of hotness for having wet hair and no blemish-hiding makeup on.

Thank all the gods they were supes because otherwise that would just be _not_ natural otherwise.

After the round of greetings – including one or two flirty one-liners from Peter and, surprisingly, Isaac – Stiles continued.

“Today’s date is a surprise but one with a specific dress code so: Chris, Allison, Mark, Amber, and Delilah you all have ten minutes to grab your sweats and running shoes and join me out front!”

Waving to the others as the five chosen suitors scrambled – four humans and one magic user in Mark – out of the room to get ready, Stiles looked over at Corrine in a rare moment of comradery between director and hosting suitor and asked: “Think they have any idea what they’re in for?”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.”  Corrine snickered since the cameras had followed the suitors and not them out to the mini-bus that was set to take them, including Corrine and Theo-the-cameraman, to the date location.  “But if they were smart they saw what you were wearing and are planning accordingly.”

Which was an excellent point.

Stiles had on cross-country running shoes, long sweatpants, and a sleeveless shirt – Lydia’s insistence – with fingerless gloves on his hands making him more covered than not.

Well, they’d see.

Though given that he’d been “encouraged” to take both Amber and Delilah on the date they were likely going to be dressed in skimpy fan-service wear of sports bars and booty shorts to show off their figures rather than anything sensible.

But, hey.

That was showbiz.

At least at some point as he weeded out some of the suitors he’d have to worry less about the “gentle” pressure from production regarding his date choices and actually take people he was interested instead of who Finstock or Corrine would make for the best television dramatics or sex-appeal shots.

…

“Anyone wanna bet on who comes home with the rose?”  Peter asked idly, indolent as the big cat he truly was at heart, as he reclined in euro-cut trunks out next to the pool, shades in place on his handsome face.

“Yes!”  A chorus of shouts went up, though Boyd had a considering look on his face where he was sitting on the edge of the pool next to Erica.

“What’re you thinking, lover boy?”  Erica nudged him gently with her shoulder.

Boyd smirked.  “A week off of dish-duty that Chris comes back with the rose.”

“Oh…”  Erica hummed under her breath.  “That’s interesting.  What do you know that we don’t?”

“I have an idea what they’re doing today and if I’m right then either Chris or Allison is going to crush it.”  Boyd shrugged.  “50/50 that it’s one of them.”

“Whatever dude,” Aiden scoffed from across the pool.  “I’ll take your bet.  It’s going to be Amber.  Stiles likes sexy and that girl is _all_ about the sexy.”

“Your loss.”  Boyd arched a brow.  “Enjoy KP.”

“So…”  Kira asked, leaning around Ennis to do so.  “What _do_ you think they’re doing?”

“He was wearing gloves and broken-in running shoes.”  Body smirked once more.  “Have any of you guys talked about his hobbies?”

Danny burst out laughing as he came up out of the water, almost sending a wave of water as he let his tail slap the surface before shifting back to legs.

“Oh fuck!”  He chortled.  “They’re going free running!  Boyd’s right: the others are _screwed_.  It’s totally going to be Chris or Allison.  They’re the only ones athletic enough not to eat dirt all day.”

…

Danny and Body, as it was, weren’t _totally_ correct.

They were going free running but not “wild” rather in a gym that also had other activities like rock climbing, trampolines, and a foam pit.

Still, they weren’t wrong either.

Chris and Allison totally crushed it out of the park but Stiles only had one rose.

And while Allison was a sweetie-pie, Chris’s confidence just _did_ it for him.

Kinda like his rough-velvet voice.

…

“Oh my god, that’s cheating.”  Stiles groaned into his hands then peaked up over them at the sight that met him when he arrived for the barbeque/pool party on Saturday afternoon before the selection ceremony later that night.

Dax was with him again, given free reign of the garden with his own handler – how was this Stiles’s life now that his dog had a _handler_ – and with a Go-Pro type camera mounted on a harness to make it completely over the top.  Not even his dog could interact with the suitors without a camera.  What the fuck.

Still, he imagined it would give them a few interesting shots/perspectives, even if it weird as hell.

But – _guh_ – the cheating.

Sure there were a few “normal/average” looking suitors and Stiles wasn’t Mr. Universe himself, but-but-but- _this?_

This was _cheating_.

How the _hell_ was he supposed to talk to or get to know or _gods-forbid-flirt_ when there is a ludicrous amount of skin, a lot of it of the perfectly-tanned variety that highlighted muscles and curves _just so_ , and half of said-skin dripping wet from dunks in the pool or hot tub.

 _So not fair_.

And even the suitors – and female suitors, _suitresses? –_ that _weren’t_ playing the show-some-skin game were all lounging around or being all _grr, fire!_ By the outdoor kitchen with its stone grill and river-rock fire pit.

Stiles was pretty sure that thing could fit half a pig or a quarter of a cow in it which given the givens – over a dozen supes with the accompanying super-charged appetites – was probably a good thing at the moment even if most of the food would be catered in like all of the “date” meals and the grilling/bbq running mainly for the cameras and a chance for the more grill-inclined contestants to strut a little.

It was all patently unfair and doing dangerous things to his hormones – he was _omega_ , some things just _got_ to him higher-reasoning be damned – but at least he didn’t feel out of place in the outfit Lydia had shoved at him with a firm look in hard green eyes.

Deucalion was lounging with mirrored aviators hiding his scarred eyes in a tank top, cargo shorts, and flip-flops that did absolutely _nothing_ to hide the fact that he might be a Professor but that didn’t make him _soft_ , showing off shoulders and arms that were on-par with the musculature of the other supes and better than most of the male humans despite having one of the most sedentary professions and hobbies.  Surrounding him – almost as if he was holding court – were the massive form of Ennis with his, in a human, steroid-induced musculature that he managed in the way only a minotaur could make seem natural.  The twins were sitting facing the older supes in their boardshorts – one green and one blue which would help when he got close enough to peg which was the beta (Aiden) and which was the alpha, meanwhile only – it seemed – sassy Tara had been brave enough to sit next to bulky Ennis in her lush ebony braids tied in a knot on the top of her head and rich cocoa skin almost _shining_ next to Ennis’s olive complexion in a sunny-yellow bikini top with a sunset-colored sarong wrapped around her curvy hips.

The next closest group to the quartet was the “grill-masters” which at the moment was comprised of Mark, Tristan, and Ken all in the “uniform” of the less-cut males of t-shirts over board shorts or cargo shorts while Chris – completely unphased by the skin on display – actually manned the grill in a sleeveless muscle shirt – _and guh, arms_ – and jeans protecting him from the occasional popping ember from the wood fire with Victoria hovering awkwardly – odd for someone who’d struck him as rather confident – in a pretty green sundress next to him.

Sitting either inside the hot tub/pool or seated on the edges thereof were a pair of dueling magazine spreads with the ladies in their bikinis taking over the former and the gents (or neutral in the case of Malia and Isaac) in their topless glory the latter.

Erica, Allison, Kira, Crystal, Amber, Delilah, and Malia – who was rockin’ a sporty strapless one-piece with cutouts showing off their sculpted back and trim sides – ruled the hot tub and carried on conversations with their other centerfold counterparts of Jackson, Isaac, Derek, Boyd, Jordan, Liam, and Peter in their variations of board shorts or short trunks.

And then there was Danny in all his merman glory with his vibrantly-colored dark purple and blue tail with silver and turquoise highlights – and scales scattered on his chest (though not in the scale-bikini formation that media liked to portray no matter the sex of the Mer in question) sides, back, neck, and even a couple on his cheekbones which did _unholy_ things to the already ridiculously-attractive Hawaiian who looked like something out of a Playgirl-centerfold.

Though before he was completely distracted, he noted a couple – rather distinct – absences.

One of which made sense.

The other…not so much.

Turning towards Scott, he arched a brow in wordless question.

“Sunroom.”  Scott answered after getting an update.  “We’ll…”

Stiles was already shaking his head.  “No, whatever it is, you won’t.  Once the sunsets I’m sure Kali at least will come out all on her own.  I’m not interested in making concessions for Noshiko when it’s her choice not to be here.  That wouldn’t be fair to everyone else.”

Scott shrugged, having been split on what he thought his friend might do since so far Stiles had tried to be so scrupulously fair they could use the edge of it as a knife-blade.

But Stiles definitely had limits to his patience and almost everything about this whole situation was bound to irritate him at some point.

Though Scott had a feeling that it if were, say, Danny, Derek, or Chris – his clear favorites so far – who was separated from the others because of their nature like Kali was, he’d do more than dismiss it with a “later.”

Then with no more ado – and having broken his near-hypnotism at the _hotter than the sun_ scene waiting on him – Stiles strode out to join his suitors with a half-smile on his face and a click of his tongue for Dax to go mingle with the others.

It was already shaping up to be an _interesting_ day and night leading up to the selection ceremony.

…

Seeing Jordan without a shirt on was a fucking _revelation._

Stiles would _like_ to say that he wasn’t shallow or ruled by his hormones but – let’s be real – _everyone_ was shallow and ruled by their hormones at least in some ways.

Even people who were ace or aro had their moments, their instinctual knee-jerk reactions of _I don’t like you_ or even _Eww, stay way_ at first sight or acquaintance with others and everything science had told them over the years was that those response were often a combination of millisecond categorization of body language, facial expression, and chemosignals that most people can’t _articulate_ for shit but still relied on anyway.

Jordan was one of the suitors who hadn’t really _stood out_ much after their first meeting – because dude was rockin’ some _serious_ baby blues that almost gave Isaac’s a run for their money (Peter and Jackson may be tied for _piercing_ blue eyes, but Isaac had hands-down the _softest_ blue eyes) – and kinda hit that “nice-guy” note like Danny without being as outgoing.

He had a lot of things going for him that gave him common ground with several of the other suitors as well, beyond sharing the resident “nice guy/girl” slot with Danny, Allison, and Kira.

The show currently boasted a handful of soldiers; four former military in the form of Chris (Marine), Peter (Navy SEAL), Tristan (Air-Force), and Jordan (Army) and one reservist in Boyd (Army.)

He was a “southern gentleman” being born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia where he now served after leaving the army as a Dekalb County Sheriff’s Deputy, while Chris (another commonality between them) was from New Orleans – and _hoo boy_ those drawls.

Hearing Chris call him _cher_ in that whiskey-rough voice almost melted him into a puddle of Stiles-goo.

Jordan and his _darlin’_ s wasn’t a whole lot better for his ability to keep a cool head.

Lethal, those two, positively _lethal_ with their stupid accents and manners and charm and _guh_ biceps.

And like Ennis, Jordan was one of the so-rare-it’s-insane supes.

Jordan was a Hellhound.

And watching him – in his words – _tussle_ with Dax was nearly enough to make Stiles’s ovaries explode in rapture especially when he looked up from giving the shameless slut-puppy-for-rubs a nice scratching and _grinned_.

Fuck it.

If he was supposed to keep a couple _certain_ contestants around for Finstock’s ratings-whoring, then he was going to keep around a couple for his _own_ visual enjoyment.

Even if he’d only exchanged a handful of words with the boyishly-handsome deputy in the week since they’d met.

At least it wasn’t a handful of words that made him want to gouge his eardrums out like _some_ people.

…

“Do I _really_ have to keep her?”  Stiles whined at Lydia and Natalie in his recovery room after a day and evening filled with sun, skin, and booze.  “ _Why?”_

Dax was snuggled up against his legs in comfort, Stiles tangling his long fingers in the fur at the scruff of his neck.

Natalie shot him a distinctly _un_ impressed look.

“Yes, no I’m not going to tell you, just take her on the big group date next week and you’ll figure it out if you’re insistent on your supe cuts this week.  Are you?”

“Yeah…”

“Then yes.  Ratings, Stiles.  None of the suitors really care enough about _you_ yet to make a convincing jealous-drama confrontation happen.  We have to work with what we have and catty is what we have at the moment.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”  She mocked him, sounding more and more like her daughter by the moment as he pouted at her and slumped before groaning as Lydia beckoned him to change into a clean set of clothes – the “uniform” for a male host for these sorts of shows of long-sleeved button-down with jeans or slacks – before he was summoned for the selection ceremony down in the stairway atrium.

…

“Kali, Delilah, Amber, Noshiko.”  Corrine purred with faux-sympathy.  “As you have not been selected to continue, please say your goodbyes and collect your things.  Your journey on _The Spark_ ends here.”

…

“Okay, I’m gonna say it.”  Erica pouted – attractively, but still – and crossed her arms over her ample chest as they filmed the obligatory “groups of contestants talk shit about the selection” pieces in the main house after the episode-ending toast.  “Stiles probably _isn’t_ biased towards supes over humans but he _does_ clearly have a preference for males.”

Isaac rolled their eyes and scoffed.  “Weren’t you the same person complaining about Kali earlier?  _Now_ you have an issue with her being gone?  What the hell, Erica?”

“No, I’m pleased as punch Kali and her snaggly toenails are out of our room.”  Erica shot a vicious blood-red grin at the intersexed omega.  “But, like _Vicky-darling_ ,”

The redhead in question hissed and snapped at the blonde not to call her that, not that Erica paid her any attention.

“I am also capable of doing basic _math_.  Out of those sent home only _three_ out of eleven have been male and they started with a majority anyway at half of the contestants chosen by the production staff.”  She arched a knowing brow.  “You think they would’ve stacked the deck that way if it wasn’t to give Stiles what he wanted?”

“Okay, that,” Allison sighed, shoulders slumping a bit.  “Unlike _other_ theories,” she shot a softly chiding look at Victoria who was the most outspoken of the remaining mundane humans who’d gotten into a fight with Kali over Stiles possibly being a speciest.  “Actually might make sense.”

“Oh please,” Peter drawled, rolling his eyes so hard the motion almost carried over into a head-roll.  “If Stiles was the sort to be bound so tightly to his instincts that he followed them in such an important decision he would’ve been bound and mated long before now _or,”_ he continued on despite the mutinous expression of Erica’s face, tone one-hundred-percent rich with an _infant-please_ note.  “At the least he would’ve refrained from sending home any alphas _at all_ before sending home the betas and other omegas.  And yet,” he waved a hand wrapped elegantly around a snifter of brandy.  “We are absent the presence of _refined_ Noshiko and _magnetic_ Kali, are we not?”

Though it clearly burned her, Erica huffed and twirled away dramatically, leaving Peter to have the last word.

Just the way he liked it.

…


End file.
